It Had To Be You
by Aria34
Summary: Have you heard about Madge Undersee and Gale Hawthorne? One-shots/short stories (Sometimes very smutty)
1. Baby You're Like Lightning in a Bottle I

**Prompt:** Character A kisses Character B to distract Character B from something.

* * *

Madge pulled her gun from its holster and held it up, trigger finger at the ready as she took one last glance out of her hidden alcove. Still in the clear. If she was lucky, she'd be able to sprint the short distance to the next alcove without being seen. Heart pounding, she took the two steps and froze when something hard and suspiciously gun-like pressed to between her shoulder blades. Well, she'd never been a lucky person.

"Hands up, Undersee," Gale's breath was hot against her neck. he was too close for her to even attempt an escape- one false move and he'd shoot. She couldn't afford that now.

 _Fuck_.

"Turn around." His voice sent chills down her spine as she raised her hands and turned. "Slowly." She inhaled deeply and forced herself to keep her eyes open and face her enemy with courage.

it wasn't supposed to end this way.

 _ **-5 minutes earlier-**_

Madge huffed in frustration as she holstered her gun. For the past 15 minutes, she'd been on the receiving end an incessant barrage of attacks because of her ridiculously bright hair. Blonde hair and black lights did not mesh well. So when she saw that little nook, hidden away from the rest of the arena, she'd jumped on the chance to hide for a few minutes and secreted herself away- hoping for a quick reprieve. It wasn't out of cowardice- not at all. Despite what the rest of them thought- she was no lily-livered punk. She just needed a couple seconds to wrangle her hair into a braid or ponytail to get the literal target off her back. Shoving her hands into the tousled blonde waves, she quickly worked it into a braid and stuffed it down the back of her tank top. It was uncomfortable, but that was the price of survival in a situation like this.

As usual, she'd ended up in this rather problematic position because of her so-called best friends. Somehow, Katniss and Peeta had managed to coerce her into playing laser tag with them. _Oh come on Madge, it'll be so fun,_ Katniss had promised-harping on and on about the many laser-tag birthdays she'd attended as a kid.

Katniss had been popular- part of the jock-squad all through high school, Madge had not.

At first, Madge considered saying no, more out of a lack of confidence than a lack of interest. But then she'd thought back to those lonely years in school and all those Friday nights spent alone in her room while everyone else was out having a blast and quickly reconsidered. She finally had the chance to be on the inside- one of the kids laughing and joking with her friends rather than the one dressed in pretty frocks who didn't have any friends. So with a wide grin, she'd said yes and made plans to meet up with Katniss and Peeta on a Friday evening.

She even began to look forward to it. But now, wedged away in a shadowy corner, she was absolutely kicking herself for coming. Things like this were only fun for people like Katniss who had perfect aim, or Peeta who had such a great personality that everyone loved him even if he was awful. There was a reason she'd never been invited to these parties when she was younger. As all the kids had been sure to remind her frequently, she was an uncoordinated loser. Who'd want to hang out with her? Of course, even then it would have been fine if it was just the three of them, and maybe Rory. She would have been able to laugh it off when she tripped over everything in the dark and scored the fewest points - but when she'd parked and met up with the group, her worst nightmare had come true.

It wasn't just Katniss and Peeta.

Slumped up against the counter was Katniss's old roommate and Madge's least favorite person, scratch that, her _second_ least favorite person- Johanna Mason. She'd taken one look at Madge in her Nike sneakers, leggings, and light blue hoodie and cracked up.

"Who the hell brought blondie?"

A rather mean chuckle behind Madge sent her heart racing. Surely her luck couldn't be _this_ bad, could it?

She took one quick glance over her shoulder, confirming her suspicion even though she knew who it was without looking.

Yes, her luck was absolutely wretched.

 _Gale Hawthorne._

Madge should have expected it. In fact, it was stupid of her to not have considered the possibility. Katniss and Gale were basically attached at the hip when they were kids. And he was the leader of the jock squad in high school, so of course, he'd be the first one invited. Now she'd be stuck in a dark room with her absolute least favorite person _and_ her second least favorite person.

Before Gale could open his mouth to mock Madge, Peeta slung an arm over her shoulders and tugged her closer to the group, responding to Johanna, "I did," He casually replied, "you've never seen what this girl can do in there."

Madge looked at him in disbelief. What the hell was he saying? He knew perfectly well that it was her first time and that she'd most likely suck.

"Her?" Johanna scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah right- what're you gonna do, Undersee? Scratch me with your nails?" She ran her fingers through her short dark hair and shot Gale a look as he walked around Madge and Peeta toward the her.

Gale didn't even bother to spare Madge a glance as Joanna slid an arm around his waist and tugged him toward the massive doors into the arena.

"Just wait and see, Jo-" Peeta said, grinning encouragingly at Madge.

"Whatever" Gale shot a bored glance over his shoulder at Peeta, still ignoring Madge. "But you might want to tell her that sweatshirt's gonna glow like a fucking neon sign."

"You just focus on watching your own ass." Both Johanna and Gale ignored Peeta's remark and let the door fall shut behind them.

Madge's face burned with embarrassment as she blankly stared at the massive black doors. She knew Johanna didn't hate her, they were almost friends. More like acquaintances. But regardless, Johanna's words didn't bother her much, Madge had learned, over the years to ignore nearly everything that came out of her mouth. Gale, on the other hand, still had the ability to make her feel two inches tall just by looking at her- or, as he'd done today, by completely ignoring her presence. She didn't know what it was about him, but even after ten years of constant rudeness, she still cared what he thought about her.

Of course it helped that he was the hottest guy she'd ever seen in her life- tan skin, dark hair and gorgeous grey eyes. The man was perfection. And he _hated_ her with breathtaking passion.

"You'll be fine, Madge," Rory nudged her shoulder as he walked past them into the arena. "See you inside!"

"Oh, uh- yeah. See ya, Rory." Madge cringed when she heard her waver in her voice but tried her best to shoot him a smile. Despite his older brother's low opinion of Madge, Rory had always liked her.

As soon as Rory shut the door behind him, Peeta rounded on Madge with a mildly panicked expression. "Tell me you're wearing soething black under that, Madge"

"Yeah, I am-" Madge looked up at him, baffled by his odd query. "A black tank-top, why?"

"Because" he grimaced, "She's right- you're gonna look like a lightbulb" he gestured toward the arena doors, "It's all black-light in there."

"Oh!" Madge cursed herself for her stupidity. "Ok, hang on," She unzipped the oversized pale blue hoodie and slipped it off, stuffing it into Katniss's hands as Peeta shoved a black vest over her head and buckled it at her waist. "Don't shoot me or Katniss, we're on your team." He said, thrusting a large plastic gun into her hands. "Gale, Johanna and Rory are on the other team."

"Right, ok," Madge took a deep breath and nodded as she glanced down at the gun in her hands. "Shoot them, not you guys. Got it."

A few minutes later, she'd found herself in a large room- blinking hard to adjust to the sudden darkness. As she gripped the plastic gun to her chest. Katniss gave her a quick shove and whispered instructions to ' _shoot and don't get shot_ ' and sprinted off in a different direction. It only took about three seconds to realize that the black-lights made her bright blonde hair look fluorescent, putting a giant bullseye on her head. She was the only one among them who had to worry about her hair, the rest of them pranced around in the dark with their brunette hair and Peeta with his black baseball cap. But Madge ran and jumped and ducked more than she ever had in her life to dodge the people shooting at her.

In a haze of panic, she found a little cranny and wedged herself into it- quickly braiding her hair and ramming it down the back of her shirt. It was definitely a disaster and probably looked like a rat had made itself a little home on her head, but at least it was hidden now- which made her less of an easy target than she'd been before.

She'd taken one last glance around, hoping she was in the clear and bounded two steps away when she felt the gun against her back. _Please be Rory, please be Rory._ She prayed silently for a few moments, knowing that if it was Rory, he wouldn't make fun of her for it later.

Nope. Of course it was Gale who'd found her. Her luck was absolutely atrocious.

She slowly turned toward him, glancing over their heads for Peeta or Katniss. Praying that one of them would be there to launch a sneak attack- but she was completely alone. She'd have to find her own way out of this.

"Looks like it's just me and you, Princess." Gale lowered his gun slightly, as he loomed over her with a smirk. "Thought Peeta said you could handle yourself?"

"I-" Madge's heart dropped when he called her Princess. He used to call her that mockingly in high school- constantly criticizing her for the littlest things and making her feel like she was less than him because her family had money. She'd thought they'd grown out of that phase.

Apparently not.

Despite the mean words, she couldn't help but admire the way his light grey eyes glittered in the dark. He'd always been too attractive for his own good, breaking hearts left and right. everyone had heard the rumors about Gale and his girls, the ones he took to the slag heap after their dates. Every girl wanted to be the one to make him settle down but clearly none of them had.

Madge would deny it to her dying day but secretly she'd always fantasized about being one of those girls. Would he be sweet and gentle with her? Probably not, he hated her too much for that. He'd probably be rough with her. And that turned her on even more. She'd gotten herself off countless times with the image of Gale pushing her against the wall and driving into her from behind or dropping to his knees and burying his face between her thighs as he fingered her to exhaustion. It made her wet just to think about it.

Even now, facing him in the dark, she had all sorts of dirty thoughts running through her brain. But that was all secondary to her main goal, she _had_ to get away from him. There was no way she'd be able to face Johanna if Gale told everyone how she froze like a scared little puppy. She needed a distraction.

Gale's lips curved up in a malicious smirk, "Say your pr-"

Before he could finish the threat, she rose to her toes and kissed him.

Hard.

His lips were surprisingly soft despite all the harsh words he constantly threw at her. The rest of him was all unyielding muscle and hot flesh.

She felt him tense up and braced herself for the inevitable shove and cruel words that were about to come. But they didn't. Instead, he stepped closer and slowly brought his hands to her waist. His mouth opened under hers as his tongue pushed against hers, fignting for dominance. It was always a battle with Gale, but this was one Madge knew she could win.

She pulled him closer, fisting her hand in his hair and tugging, eliciting a low groan from his lips. God, this was everything she'd dresmed of- his body pressed to hers. She walked him back into the alcove and pushed him against the wall, closing the space between them as his belt buckle dug into her belly. He'd barely moved, clearly still in shock. But Madge took complete advantage of the moment, knowing she'd hate herself for it later. She gently bit his lower lip and gasped when he pulled her closer.

She wasn't the only one enjoying the kiss.

He tightened his figners at her waist, stroking the band of soft skin between her tank top and leggings. Just as he was about to turn them around to hoist her up against the wall, she tore her lips away and shoved him hard, knocking him off balance and buying herself a a few seconds. He caught himself on the wall and looked up, about to yell at her for pushing him, but she was gone. No sign of that long, blonde hair anywhere.

"What the fuck-" Gale slumped against the wall and stared into the darkness, confused and more than a little aroused by the Mayor's daughter.

* * *

 _These are all going to be unrelated one-shots unless there's a lot of interest/requests to turn one into a short fic!_

 **-M-**


	2. Baby, You're Electric Love II

**Prompt:** Character A kisses Character B to distract Character B from something.

* * *

Gale observed her over the rim of his beer. Madge Undersee, the only person whose very existence pissed him off had kissed him and walked away as if it was something she did regularly. Actually, she sprinted away, and moments later, he'd realized that she shot him. She shot him! He'd been so distracted by her soft lips and warm skin that he'd dropped his gun and didn't even notice when she grabbed hers.

That wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't attracted to her- not at all. He appreciated that she was a good looking girl. In all honesty, she was one of the most gorgeous people he'd ever known, all blonde hair and blue eyes. But that was supposed to annoy him, not turn him on.

They'd known each other for years- and there wasn't a single time in high school or college where Gale had considered hooking up with her. And now, all of a sudden, he couldn't think of anything else. Where the hell did that kiss come from? He didn't know she could kiss like that. She looked like a god-damn virgin. Acted like one too- turning pink every time he stood near her. Although that was probably more because of the things he said to her. Mean things, if he was being honest with himself, but he couldn't help it. Ever since the first time he saw her in high school- when she stepped out of her shiny, new Audi in a pair of $300 dollar shoes, he'd hated her. Despite Katniss's constant appeals for him to ' _please stop taunting her_ ', Gale couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Gale," Johanna's voice interrupted his thoughts, "Gale!"

She jerked his head toward her and raised his eyebrows, silently asking why she felt the need to shout his name.

"I'm heading out, see you later" She slung her jacket over her shoulder and nudged his shoulder as she walked behind him. "Later, Undersee," she nodded at Madge approvingly, "you weren't horrible today.

Clearly, she'd had been impressed by Madge's less than awful performance. And she wasn't the only one, Katniss had spent the better part of the last hour convincing her to come white-water rafting with her. Rory, on the other hand, had spent the last hour making fun of Gale for his terrible performance. It wasn't his fault he'd been distracted- how the hell was he supposed to concentrate after that kiss? Every time he saw a flash of blonde hair, he froze, expecting Madge to shove him against the nearest wall and throw herself at him again. And he was thoroughly disappointed when she never did.

Now he was fantasizing about her?

Nothing about tonight was normal, not the kiss, not the way Madge was laughing and joking with everyone else, and definitely not the way Gale, wedged in a corner of their booth, was unable to take his eyes off her.

She, on the other hand, hadn't spared him a single glance since they left the Arena. It was like the kiss never even happened. It had happened, right? Or had he imagined the taste of her vanilla chapstick?

There was no way, he wasn't that creative. And if it was just a dream, there's no way he would have stopped at a kiss.

He turned his head toward Katniss, pretending to listen to whatever she was saying but watched the blonde from the corner of his eye. She looked happy tonight, a far cry from her trademark cool, composed persona- no longer the perfect Mayor's daughter. Maybe it was the alcohol, but she seemed brighter- more vibrant. She looked animated and interested in whatever stupid story Mellark was telling her. And her hair, which had been tied back in some hideous mess earlier, was wavy and tousled around her shoulders now. It looked like sex hair.

And now Gale was back to thinking about fucking the mayor's daughter.

* * *

"Later Rory" Gale waved as his younger brother slid into the backseat of Katniss's car. He was planning on surprising Prim after her shift at the hospital tonight.

Now it was just the two of them- Gale and Madge, left in the little parking lot behind the bar. She still seemed completely unconcerned as she rifled through her bag, looking for her car keys.

She looked up and smiled at him distractedly as she fiddled with her keys,

"I'm parked over there," she gestured over her shoulder, "I'll see you around."

"I think you're right next to me," Gale nodded at his car, "I'll walk you." Her cheeks turned a pale pink as they walked across the cold, empty lot. Was it because of the cold or because of him?

Her Audi automatically unlocked with a quiet click as they approached the cars. Gale slowed his steps down, hesitant to let her go so soon. He wanted her to stay, wanted her to look at him. He needed to see something other than distant politeness in those bright, blue eyes.

"So," Gale said, leaning against his car as she swung open the driver's side door and tossed her bag into her passenger seat, "been meaning to kiss me long?" She stiffened and turned toward him with that infuriatingly neutral expression. No, it wasn't enough. He _had_ to see her eyes light up. "Or did you just feel like slumming it with a coal miner's kid?" He regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, but couldn't hold them back.

"Excuse me?"

She turned to face him, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a frown. Well, his wish came true- her eyes were now filled with utter contempt rather than her customary apathy.

He couldn't stop himself, "Oh come on, Undersee" He slowly looked her up and down and shot her a mocking smirk. "Rich girl like you- what, you kiss me for some excitement?" He closed the distance between them until they were toe-to-toe. "Think I can give you what your preppy little boyfriends can't?"

He paused when she jerked back as if he'd slapped her. Then, with a sudden and _terrifying_ burst of rage, she brought both her palms up to his chest and shoved him back. Gale's eyes snapped to hers, shocked by her intensity.

"You're a bastard, Gale." She pushed him again. "I get that you hate me, ok? _I get it_." The next push had him backed up against his car. "I'm rich, you're poor. We _all_ get it!" She was in his face now, eyes glittering with hateful tears. "But you know what? Get that fucking chip off your shoulder- because this whole thing is just played out."

"I didn't kiss you because I felt like ' _slumming it'_." She quoted his accusation, disgusted by the words. She dropped back to her heels and shook her head. SHe looked back up at him with shockingly empty eyes- he didn't like it. She wasn't supposed to give up, she was _supposed_ to fight back, damnit. All the passion fueling her tirade seemed to leak out of her. "God, just forget it."

She turned away and flung open her car door, pausing to say one last thing, "I kissed you because I _wanted_ to. I've wanted to for years." Slamming the door shut behind her, she backed the car out and sped out of the nearly empty lot, leaving behind Gale in cold, shocked silence.

* * *

"Undersee," He pounded on her door- grimacing at the jolt of pain that ran down his wrist each time his fist met the wood. "Open the damn door." He paused and pressed his ear to the door, listening for her footsteps. "I know you're there- I can hear you."

He thumped his fist harder, ignoring the discomfort, "I'm not going to leave so you might as well open it before your neighbors freak out."

He heard the chain on her door unlatch, or maybe she latched it to keep him _out_. A quiet snick of the deadbolt told him she was standing right on the other side of the door, about to open it.

He hadn't bothered to consider what he would say or rehearse an apology for when she opened the door. All he knew was that he'd fucked up more than he ever had before, and he needed to fix it. The worst he'd ever done over the past 10 years were some quietly rude comments and dirty looks, nothing so obviously malicious as what he'd said earlier that evening. As soon as he saw the confusion and hurt in her eyes, he knew he'd crossed a line. He didn't know what it was about the Mayor's daughter that turned him into the worst version of himself.

When she sped out of the parking lot, he got in his car and raced after her, hoping to catch her before she locked herself away in her apartment, but the entire world had been against him, punishing him for his cruelty. He hit _every_ single red light and been cut off by an 18-wheeler. So by the time he sprinted to her door, she was inside and understandably unwilling to open the door for him.

But Gale was nothing if not tenacious.

He'd been standing outside her door for nearly 15 minutes. First, he tried ringing her doorbell- but she ignored that. Then, he spoke loudly enough for her to hear, calmly asking her to _please let him in_ \- she ignored that as well. Now, he was pounding on the door like a madman, shouting so loud that her neighbors could hear him. She couldn't ignore this, could she?

He heard the doorknob turned and paused his forceful pounding as she cracked the door open an inch, just enough for him to see the ends of her blonde hair through the gap.

"What do you want, Gale?" she asked. She sounded exhausted- like she didn't have the energy to talk or listen to him.

"I want you to let me in."

"No." She tried to close the door, but he jammed the toe of his shoe into the tiny gap, keeping it open.

"Please open the door," From where he stood, he could see a little silver chain, looping from the wall to the edge of the door, holding it in place. She had definitely latched the chain earlier- knowing he would try to come inside whether or not she wanted him to.

She sighed heavily, "Fine. You have three minutes." She pushed the door slightly closed, then unlatched the chain and opened it again, letting him enter.

He stepped in and let her close the door behind him as he glanced around her apartment. The heavy wood furniture, massive flatscreen and tasteful decor made the entire place look it belonged in a home design magazine. It screamed money. It was exactly what he'd expected- but he tried to push down the mean comments that immedietely came to mind. He was here to apologize, _not_ make things worse.

She came to stand in front of him, arms crossed defensively. In the low light, he could just barely see the redness around her eyes. She'd been crying. _He had made her cry_. And that made him feel sick. Even though he'd spent the better part of their relationship belittling her or ignoring her, he never considered the possibility that she might be affected by any of it. What the hell was wrong with him? He knew he'd kill any guy who ever made Posy or Prim cry, so why was he making Madge Undersee cry?

"What do you want?" She looked up at him but didn't meet his eyes, instead gazing at some point behind his right shoulder. There was no sign of the the fury from earlier.

"I'm sorry." He said, "I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't true, and I know that."

She nodded without hesitation, barely even listening to the words coming out of his mouth. All she wanted was for him to leave. "I accept your apology. Goodbye, Gale." She edged around him toward the door, mentally telling herself to _keep it together_ , at least until he left.

"That's it?" He looked at her, confused, "just like that?"

"Yes. You're forgiven." Her voice was flat and polite. No emotion, and absolutely no sign of the well-bred, well-mannered rich girl.

"Undersee- I," Gale paused- even if she _said_ she accepted his apology, it wasn't ok. His words from earlier still hung over them like a dark cloud, "Madge, please look at me."

She ignored his request and slid her hand over the doorknob, "Your three minutes are up."

He pushed his hand against the wood and held the door shut, bowing his head in defeat. " _Please_ look at me," he repeated, hoping she would shove his hand away and fling open the door or turn around and yell at him to leave- but she didn't. She just turned and leaned against the door, looking up at him with those bright, blue eyes.

"You're not the kind of person I accused you of being- I'm so sorry I said it." Gale said, then paused, frustrated. He ran his hands through his hair, mussing it up as he searched for the right words to explain himself, "I just wanted- I mean, I- Did you mean it when you said you wanted to kiss me?"

She narrowed her eyes at him, bewildered by his sudden question. Good, at least he finally got some sort of response out of her. Gale stepped closer until they were inches apart, sharing the air between them. His hand came up slowly and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"Yes, I meant it." If she was confused by everything he was doing, she didn't show it.

"Good," He leaned closer, lips quirking up into a half smile as she gently skimmed her hands up to his waist, fisting them in the material of his jacket. "I shouldn't have said that earlier today, but I did becuase I didn't want you to go- and I didn't know how to ask you to stay." At some point, his voice had become quieter. It was nearly a whisper now, a private confession meant for her, and only her. He smoothed his thumb over her cheek and tilted her face up to his. God, she looked beautiful.

"You could have just asked me to stay." Madge tugged him closer with a small smile.

He nodded as he brushed his lips against hers, "Next time, I will." He slid his arms around her waist and kissed her, teasing her lips with his tongue as he stroked her lower back.

She wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him closer, rising to her toes as he backed her up against the door and kissed her deeper. She scraped her fingernails up his scalp, burying her hands in his thick, chestnut brown hair and felt his smirk against her lips.

"Damn, Undersee," He whispred into her mouth, moving his hands dangerously low, until his thumbs hooked into the elastic waistband of her leggings. In one fluid movement, he slid his hands further down and hooked his palms under her thighs, hoisting her up against his body. With a surprised laugh, Madge wrapped her legs around his hips and crossed her ankles at his back, arching into his kisses.

"For the record," he pulled back with a sheepish smile, "I didn't come here to kiss you."

Madge pulled him back in for another kiss, gasping with delight when he began pressing open-mouthed kisses to her neck. "I don't care. But if you stop, I'm kicking you out." She tilted her neck, giving him access to her throat.

He laughed against her skin then mumbled something about not wanting to disappoint her as he pulled away from the door and walked them to her sofa.

* * *

 _Continuation of Laser-Tag I because there was some interest :)_

 **-M-**


	3. In the Night When She Comes Crawling

_**Prompt:** Gale and Madge meet again, years after the rebellion. _

**Warning— this is very, very explicit. Please don't read if you don't like smut!**

* * *

One more drink, and he'd call it a night.

Gale Hawthorne watched the stage intently, cataloging every arch and moan, every flash of bare flesh washed pale by the harsh lights. Shows at the Iron Arms weren't just skin on display with bored dancers writhing a pole and counting down the hours until closing. They were real, in-your-face revelries of lust.

And fuck, they were _hot_. The redhead on stage could take apart a rifle, rebuild a carburetor in twenty minutes, and get herself off on stage like it was the most fun anyone in the whole goddamn world had ever had. If Gale could manage to remember her name, he might have loved her.

Maybe.

By his own choice, Gale had always existed on the fringes of the new government. He was all in, working his ass off to carry out President Paylor's commands. But when it came time to hang up his gun and play, he shied away from the glitzy ballrooms and unrestrained wealth of the capitol. It wasn't his style.

The redhead rolled to her knees on stage, drawing his attention to the smooth curve of her ass. He shifted in his chair to relieve the pressure caused by the sudden surge of desire—and almost groaned aloud when the persistent ache in his right leg ignited into fiery pain. It was an immediate and sobering reminder that these days he was not only useless as a soldier, but also as a lover.

Some fucking hero he was.

The bartender with the pink—tipped hair stopped by his table, her hand lingering over his nearly empty glass. "You want a bottle for the road, Gale?"

Shit, he didn't remember her name, either. "Yeah. That'd be good."

"You got it."

He followed her to the bar, his stride carefully measured to cover his lingering limp. Doc had assured him he was getting better, that all it took was time and care, but most days he felt like all the time and care in the world wouldn't make his leg normal again.

He accepted the bottle with thanks and made his way out the door at the back of the room, dreading every step he took in the cold, night air, straight to his own personal fucking hell—the steep, narrow stairs leading to his office. He never seemed to go home to his apartment anymore, instead, he'd just turned the cramped back room of his office into a makeshift bedroom.

Gale stood at the bottom of the stairway for a moment, then gritted his teeth as he started walking up. Slow, precise, his right hand clenched around the railing. He clutched the bottle in his left, and halfway up the flight of stairs, he almost lost his grip on some of the best whiskey in District 2, all because his palms were growing slick and damp with the sweat of exertion.

He heard the sounds before he reached the top, footsteps in his office followed by the clatter of filing cabinets. Someone bit off a curse, a low but feminine sound that made his stomach clench.

Gale swiped his arm across his forehead and flung open the door. A woman stood there, dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt that made her blonde hair look even brighter in the dim light.

A stranger. She was pretty, petite, infinitely fuckable, the kind of curves he'd want to drop to his knees and worship— if his right knee wasn't as useless as a knitted condom—but she was standing in his home uninvited, and that meant she had to go.

"Get out," he growled.

She started at the sound of his voice, clutching a file folder of reports to her chest as she spun around. She tensed, her big blue eyes fixing on his for just a moment before sweeping down his body. "Gale," she breathed out, startled but not shocked to see him— even though it'd been 8 years. He looked... massive. Even bigger than he had all those years ago in District 12. He had the body of a soldier now— unyielding muscle and cold eyes.

"Undersee? What the fuck are you doing here?" Gale's fingers loosened around the bottle for a few precarious moments before he recovered and fisted it tightly. He never imagined he'd see the Mayor's daughter again. In fact, he never even wasted second thinking about her after he dragged her, sobbing and clawing at his hands, away from her home as the Capitol rained hell down on District 12. He'd gotten her through the fence and immediately shoved her into the arms of some face-less blonde woman. After that, he never stopped to think about her again— too caught up in saving his family, then saving the world by Katniss's side.

"I'm your new analyst." She shuffled the papers to one arm and held out a hand as if he wasn't standing there glaring at her. "Well, Hevensbee gave me the job and told me I was to speak with you as soon as possible."

He ignored her proffered hand. "I don't have an analyst. Don't need one."

"You may not, but the Capitol requires you to have one." She frowned and tilted her head, observing the room. "You have filing cabinets. Honestly, I don't know where you found them. It's barbaric."

Wonderful. Not only had she invaded his personal space, but now she was insulting his organizational skills. "You're a long way from the Capitol's fancy computers, Princess Undersee. Around here, I decide how things are done, even if it involves barbaric pieces of paper for record-keeping."

She braced her free hand on her hip and arched an eyebrow. "Don't tell me the most infamous general, the soldier whose weapons won the Rebellion is afraid of a little tech." She ignored his dig at her. Maybe she'd been something akin to a princess— back when District 12 existed and she was the Mayor's daughter. But then 12 turned to ashes and rubble and her father turned to dust. Now she wasn't anything close to a princess. She wasn't even the Mayor's daughter. She was just another orphan from the Rebellion.

Gale narrowed his eyes at her, wondering when she'd grown a spine. She didn't act the girl he knew all those years ago, not with that hint of fire in her eyes. It reached past the throbbing ache in his leg to reignite his banked libido, and he found himself staring at her mouth, waiting for her to lick her lips so he could catch another glimpse of her quick pink tongue.

Gale groaned. The smartest thing would be to scare her off, but she didn't look easily cowed. "I'll pay you to leave," he offered. "How's that?"

Now both of her eyebrows were up. "I don't need your money. I need to do this job. If you don't want me to mess with your files, fine—"

"Okay. Don't mess with my files."

She didn't falter, didn't even blink. "Then tell me where your records of the District 2 uprisings are."

 _If I were an asshole_... He waved the bottle of whiskey at her. "You could start by letting me drink half of this and jerk off so I can get some sleep."

That snapped her teeth together—for about five seconds. He found some measure of sick pleasure at the way her eyes widened for a moment before she composed herself and looked at him with an impassive expression. "If you're self-conscious about doing that with me in the next room, I could take some work home."

"Self—conscious?" He took a few steps toward her, dropped the bottle on his desk and unbuckled his belt. "I'll lay it out right here, Princess, if you want to watch." _What the hell was he doing?_ Why was he even bothering with conversation and taunts— he should have just tossed her out and gotten on with his miserable night.

Her gaze flicked to his hands, and he got that flash of tongue he'd been waiting for as she wet her lips. "I wouldn't be watching. I'd be working."

Filing papers like there was nothing more interesting going on? Fuck that. "Bullshit." Gale tugged open the top button on his jeans, watching her face as he dragged his thumb over the zipper. In the back of his mind, he should hear the sober part of his brain telling him to _get his hand off his dick_ but he ignored that voice. "It may be a little battered these days, like the rest of me, but my ego's not dead. If I start stroking my dick right in front of you, you're damn sure gonna be paying attention. Not just watching— _riveted_."

The folder in her hands creased under the force of her grip. Not fear though, and that flush in her cheeks wasn't shyness, either. There was too much awareness in her eyes like she was imagining his cock and how it would look with his hand wrapped around it.

Or maybe her hand.

Little Miss Madge Undersee was far, _far_ too interested.

She pivoted abruptly and dumped the crumpled files on his desk. "Life's funny sometimes, isn't it?"

"Goddamn hilarious." He left his belt hanging open, left that one lone button undone, and reached for the whiskey. "What are you doing here?"

She ignored the question and gestured to his straining fly. "Do you want me to help? Or just watch?"

The thrill of anticipation that shot through him made him the worst kind of asshole, after all. He snorted to cover it. "If I wanted a whore, Undersee, I know where to find one. I'm a big boy. I don't need Hevensbee to deliver one to my front door."

Madge's expression didn't change, but that damn shirt dipped low between her collarbones, and he could see the flush rising. "Plutarch warned me you've been cranky since the accident. But calling me a whore won't scare me off, you know. I've been called worse."

Her tone raked at him—defiant and resigned, all at once—and suddenly he wondered. "What the hell happened to you after 12? We never heard anything." He knew it was a lie the moment the words left his lips. They'd never heard because they hadn't bothered to ask.

That made her flinch, though her lips twisted into a mockery of a smile. "I went where I was needed." Her words were brittle and harsh, "I figured out how to get by." She rounded the desk and perched herself on the corner until her lips were a breath away from his— he could smell her perfume now—something sensual and floral that hit him low in the gut. "But don't worry, Gale. I learned what to do with a man." She stroked one fingernail up the rough material at his thigh, sending hot flames to his erection. "You all want a girl who acts like she's never seen a cock but can still swallow it when you shove it down her throat."

That sounded about right—for the fancy men in the Capitol, the ones who liked their women mindless and obedient. Completely dependent—which was why all the Capitol whores were addicted to morphling and all sorts of dirty drug cocktails. But when had she learned what those men wanted? "Look, Undersee, you don't know me or my dick. But men outside the capitol don't prize drugged-up subservience over a woman who honestly loves to fuck."

"Shows what you know." She pushed herself further onto his desk and lounged back, resting her weight on her palms as she crossed her legs, deliberately sliding her foot up the calf of his uninjured leg. "Talk about your dick all you want, Gale, but that's not going to stop me from doing my job."

"I'm not just going to talk about it." He offered her the bottle with one upraised brow.

Madge snatched the bottle from him and her lips closed around it so slow and deliberate it was fucking well obscene, then she watched him as she took another deep sip. She knew what she was doing, all right—and he was playing right into her sweet little hands. "Talk is cheap, Hawthorne," she raised an eyebrow and nodded toward his zipper, "Get on with it."

Gale slid one large palm up her thigh and grasped her hip, squeezing for a moment before yanking her to her feet. He tugged the bottle of whiskey from her, sliding it across the wood and walked around her, dropping into his desk chair as she turned to follow him with her gaze.

He signed as the ache in his injured leg waned but the tension twisted, leaving his balls heavy—and everything else painfully tight. Achy. She hadn't moved a finger, still as a statue on the other side of his desk.

He winced as he pulled open the zipper on his fly and freed his cock, shoving down his jeans as far as they went. It was a gamble now, would she stay or would she go? He touched himself lightly at first, watching her, growing harder at the predatory look in her eyes, then grinned as he shifted his hand to grip his shaft. He dropped his head against the back of the chair but not before he heard her quiet gasp.

He felt her moving closer, smelled her perfume as it wrapped around him, drowning him in its heady scent. He'd seen one thing in her eyes as her gaze had traveled over him earlier—she wanted to touch him.

She wanted it bad.

She wouldn't hesitate to take what she wanted, either. Gale breathed deeply, and tightened his fist, waiting for her. He didn't know what to expect. Would she drop to her knees between his legs and drag her fingers slowly up his thighs or would she throw all her inhibitions out the window and close her lips over the head of his cock, knocking his hand out of the way to take complete control. Maybe she'd lean back against his desk and watch him while she drank his whiskey. He groaned and squeezed his hand for a moment before relaxing into easy strokes.

She stepped between his legs and leaned toward him. First, he felt her palms on his shoulders, then her lips against his ear, "Not so fast, not at first."

Gale moved fast, dragging her closer as he opened his eyes. She landed astride his lap—inches from his cock, which jutted up in the hot space between their bodies—and he locked both hands around her waist. Madge tried to shift her position and pull herself closer to him but Gale gripped her thighs and held her in place, his thumbs moving in soothing circles, warming her skin through her jeans.

"Anxious?" Gale's voice was barely more than a whisper as he notice of the wary smile playing across her lips.

Madge laughed and kissed her way up his jaw, stopping to feather a kiss over his earlobe. "Depends," she tightened her fingers on the back of his head, and kissed him. Her tongue darted out to stroke his lips. She rolled her hips against his cock, grinding on his lap in a move worthy of an Iron Arms dancer, forcing a low groan from his lips.

He had to force his hands to relax before he left finger-shaped bruises up and down her thighs. "On?"

"How long you can take it." Another roll, and this time it was her teeth on his earlobe, the barest tease as her fingernails pricked his scalp. "How long you can grope and grind and let me touch you before you'll lose control."

His dick swelled against the warm juncture of her thighs. "Take off your shirt."

She lifted her head long enough to grin at him, wild and unrestrained, her eyes dancing. "No," she said and leaned in to nip at his other ear. Her breath raced across his skin as her voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "But you can take it off."

Too easy.

Gale twisted his hand in the fabric at her waist and pulled it up slowly, groaning when he caught the first glimpse of her lacy, white bra. He tugged the black cotton over her head and let it fall to the floor.

Shuddering, she pressed an openmouthed kiss to his throat.

He flicked her nipple through the lace. "Can't take it?"

"You haven't even scratched the surface of what I can take," she skimmed her lips down his jaw and closed her teeth on his throat.

 _Yes_.

"Show me what you want," he invited.

She lifted her head and caught the back of the chair before rocking up, rolling her hips in a slow, taunting grind as she stared into his eyes. "Like this. Deep and hard." She reached between them and began unbuttoning his shirt. "I want to feel it when you first push into me."

He sat back and let her have her way with his body, her lips, and teeth leaving wicked, stinging bites down his chest as each button exposed more skin. She suddenly seemed to lose her patience and jerked open his shirt, sending the final buttons pinging wildly to the floor.

She sat back on his thighs, eyes hot with appreciation as she took in his broad, muscled chest.

"Something you want to say, Undersee?"

"Shut up, Gale." She ran her hands down his abs, lightly scratching him in warning.

He bought his hand down on her ass with a sharp crack. Then, before she had time to open her mouth, he smacked her lace-covered breast next, and the firm flesh swayed enticingly. Made his dick ache, too, and his next words sounded rough. "I could play with these tits for hours. Sucking, pinching..." He tweaked her nipple just to watch her jerk.

Her skin flushed, and her breathing quickened. "Do that again."

Gale reached up and jerked the thin straps down her arms, pulling until her bra slid down to her waist and her breasts were naked in his hands.

He caught one nipple in his mouth and sucked hard, the edge of his teeth scraping her flesh. He lifted his head, giving her the full impact of his lust-hazed eyes. "Are you wet?" He sucked her nipple into his mouth and opened her pants with his free hand without waiting for a response. Her gasp turned into a groan when his knuckles brushed her abdomen. He jerked her jeans low on her hips, low enough to slip his hand into her panties. His wide fingers parted her, one fingertip nudging her clit, and the tingles exploded into buzzing warmth all the way to her toes.

Madge pulled him up for a kiss, all tongues and teeth, as he worked his hand between her thighs. His hand shifted until one finger pushed inside, teasing her with a taste of what he could give her.

"Fucking hell, you're dripping." He pulled the finger out and circled it around her clit, savoring the soft gasps falling from her lips.

It was so calmly obscene she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning, but she couldn't stop her body from tensing, silently begging for his finger to be deep and hot inside her. "Of course I am," she said unsteadily. "Why wouldn't I be if I'm riding your hand?"

"You're not riding it, yet." He thrust two fingers inside her, almost distracting her from the steely hand he laid on her hip, stilling her furtive movements.

Panting, she put more effort into moving, but he had her fixed in place, trapped with two fingers filling her, stretching her. Arousal constricted around her, and now she was aware of every damn way her body reacted. Her tightened nipples, her flushed skin, her pussy clenching around his fingers, every reaction betraying how hot he was making her.

And the smug bastard knew it.

She clenched her teeth and slid her palms down his chest until she had both hands wrapped around the base of his cock. She stroked her hand over his length, twisting lightly, and swallowed a moan when he strummed his thumb over her clit. He thrust hard against her palm and she squeezed her fists tight around him.

He closed his eyes and licked his lips as she began working him, up and down, twisting and releasing. The groan that left his lips sent hot tingles down her spine.

Oh, God. She watched him, rapt, as she slowed her movements, then stopped entirely and leaned forward to kiss him lightly.

He wasn't the only one who could be smug.

At her low laugh, his eyes shot open, burning with need. The arm around her back tightened and he hauled her closer, thrusting his fingers deeper and pressing them to a place inside her that sent violent shudders through her body. Her mouth dropped open in a silent moan, and she squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to hold out.

Gale reared his hand back and brought his palm down on her ass again as his thumb settled on her clit, the perfect, piercing counterpoint. "Come for me." He leaned forward to capture her nipple between his lips, sucking hard, gently biting, overwhelming her with sensation.

Madge tensed, and her eyes snapped open. Her arms were going numb, her muscles were cramping, and she didn't give a flying fuck. All that mattered was his hand, his fingers, and the sheer, bright ecstasy flooding her. She bit back a shriek as the mounting pleasure crested, sudden and inescapable.

"Just like that." He dragged her through her climax with relentless stroking and his thumb working in circles that wouldn't stop. She wound her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder, holding on for dear life as savage waves crashed over her.

Good didn't describe the torturous pleasure. "Gale—" Her voice shuddered, broke as she pressed damp kisses against his skin.

"Want something, Undersee?"

So satisfied. So smug. "Fuck you," she panted, scraping her nails across his shoulders.

Laughing, Gale pulled his fingers free of her body. "Not unless you ask nicely." He traced his slick fingertips over her nipple. Before she could respond, he bent to capture the stiff peak between his lips, sucking the taste of her from her skin with an appreciative rumble.

She pushed at his chest, forcefully, making his back met the chair with a dull thump. "My turn." She slid to the floor between his knees and hooked her fingers in the front pockets of his jeans, dragging them down as he lifted himself to help her until they lay pooled at his ankles.

She stroked her fingers over his thighs. Fresh scars broke the skin of one leg, angry and jagged. She ran her tongue up the scars, looking up at him to see the heady lust in his eyes. She traced her fingertip up to where he still held his shaft in a loose grip, teasing over his fingers before brushing her knuckle up the underside."

When he spoke, it twisted her trembling even higher. "Go on, Princess," he growled, low and taunting. Tempting. "Suck."

Yes.

Madge parted her lips and traced the tip of her tongue up his shaft teasingly, smirking up at Gale before he sank a hand into her hair and thrust his thumb between her lips. "Suck, don't tease," He commanded, grimacing when she bit down on his thumb.

Her hands teased up his thighs and she licked him wet, then held his gaze as she slid her lips down around him.

Hazy pleasure made his eyes droop, but he forced them open. He wanted to watch her, glistening lips stretched wide around his cock, staring up at him as she took him deeper and deeper, wrapping him in wetness and heat.

A moan vibrated around him. She changed the rhythm, sucking hard as she drew him into her mouth, and licking as she retreated, over and over. He tugged at her hair, forcing her to look at him. His lazy gaze drifted over her features, and his lips twitched up in a smile.

All his worries about his mangled leg eased away as she pulled back and flicked her tongue over the crown of his cock. Release edged closer but he shoved it back, gritting his teeth as he hauled her up by her arms until his cock popped free of her lips. She let him pull her to her feet, then shrugged his hands off and slid her jeans and lace panties down, leaving them on the floor as she straddled his lap.

Her hips aligned over his and she ground down with a moan, rocking back and forth, digging her nails into his shoulders every time his cock stroked against her clit. She exhaled shakily and eased up his body, sinking onto him until her hips were flush against his. He was even bigger than he looked, _thick and so damn hard_ , pressing into her, stretching her. He didn't just fill her—he invaded her.

Gale waited for her to gather herself, then ran his hands down to her thighs and rubbed his thumbs over her bare skin. "Ride me."

She hesitated until he slapped a hand against her hip, and then she was moving, the strong muscles of her thighs working as she rose and fell, taking him deep and hard and frantic.

Blinding pleasure shot through him like a shock, but a string of curses drew his attention back to her lips— filthy pleas slipping out each time she lowered herself. He dug his fingers into her thighs, rough and wild—on the verge of an explosive orgasm.

No time for Madge to find her rhythm and ride him to completion. Gale gripped her hips and held her suspended above him. She made a single noise of protest that turned to sheer pleasure as he drove up into her, pumping his hips in thrust after desperate thrust.

She arched her back, offering her sensitive breasts to him as she took him, over and over. He glanced up at her, smirking as he caught a nipple between his lips. He bit gently as she came with a cry. Not just a cry but his name, broken and desperate, spilling from her lips as she begged for more. He fucked her through it, fucked her until the tight, rhythmic clench of her pussy drew him over the edge, too.

The room blurred, everything but the thump of Madge's pulse faded into the darkness as he hauled her close for his last frenzied thrusts. His teeth dug into the silky skin of her shoulder, marking her as he was certain she'd marked him with her teeth and nails. He thrust into her one last time then collapsed back into the chair.

She gave it a few moments, a few peaceful, quiet moments before she dragged herself off his lap and turned to yank her panties and jeans on. She glanced at him quickly, unable to resist the temptation, and nearly climbed back onto his lap for another round. He lounged back like a king on his throne— shirt still hanging unbuttoned, giving her a glorious view of his chest and abs; and knees spread wide, cock laying across his thigh— still impressive in its softening state. He looked completely unbothered by his nakedness.

She had her jeans at her knees when, Gale leaned forward, grasping her hips and spinning her around.

"Such a pretty ass," he squeezed a handful of the soft skin and slapped her, hard, forcing her to brace her palms against his massive desk. She'd never been into getting spanked before, but somehow, Gale made it feel so fucking dirty and _hot_. Her knees weakened as he caressed her. He brought his hand down on the other side with an even louder crack, then, surprising her, he followed with a kiss. He opened his lips over the hot, reddening flesh and sucked, finishing with a rough bite, leaving a mark on her ass, as well.

Gale reluctantly released her and sat back, watching as she wriggled into the tight pants. She took a long swig of his whiskey, slid it back onto his desk and shot a wink at him over her shoulder before she turned and walked the hell out. No goodbye, no goodnight, not even a ' _thanks for the fuck_ '.

He ran his hands through his hair and reached for the whiskey. Who the fuck was this new Madge Undersee?

* * *

 _ **Next Prompt: Gale and Madge are in high school, he's on the football team and she's a cheerleader** (_ _Sent in by Lady Isabelle Black)_

If anyone has an idea for a prompt, send it my way!

 **—M—**


	4. Smells Like Teen Spirit

**Prompt:** High school version where Madge is a cheerleader and Gale is a football player.

Prompt submitted by lady Isabella Black.

Chapter I of II

* * *

"I'm gonna fuck her tonight," Cato's muttered as a whistle pierced through the air, sending rows of tall, young men face first into the grass. Staccato chirps directed the whole team into a frenzy of push-ups- up, down, up, down. At the next shrill sound, the boys hauled themselves back to their feet and sprinted to the 30-yard line.

"What?" Gale asked, panting as he kept pace with Cato. "Who?" He lunged down, slapping one palm to the painted line on the turf and turned to sprint back to the end-zone. He didn't have to kill himself to be the first one back, but he sure as hell wasn't about to let Cato get there before him.

Thresh wedged himself between Gale and Cato to join the conversation, "He's talking about that new cheerleader- the blonde." He jerked his head toward the side of the field, at the huddle of cheerleaders looking miserable in their sunny, yellow sweaters.

"Why do we need a new cheerleader?" Gale rolled his eyes and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. "They get a new one 'cause Cato already fucked all the old ones?"

Gale could hear Thresh's laughter as he pulled ahead of them.

Gale shot a cursory glance at the girls with their tiny skirts and giant pom-poms. God, how the hell were they not freezing their asses off? There was nothing normal about cheerleaders, not the way they threw each other 20 feet in the air nor the way they flung their limbs around like they didn't have joints. Gale shuddered and sprinted faster, desperately trying to warm up his numb feet. It was the middle of November- _definitely not_ mini-skirt weather.

None of the girls in his life would ever consider becoming a cheerleader. As Katniss frequently reminded him, she would rather die than "shake her ass to cheer on a bunch of useless jocks". Prim was too busy volunteering at the animal shelter down the street after-school and at the senior center on weekends. And little Posy, as much as she thought the cheerleaders were "so tall and pretty" would never waste her time on something so aimless- Hazelle would make sure of that.

Gale tugged at his collar, itchy and sweaty under all the layers of padding. He could already feel the shoulder pads chafing at the back of his neck. He couldn't wait to hit the showers. If anyone bothered to ask him if he enjoyed football, he'd say no. And if they asked him why, he had about a million reasons why. He hated the constant aches and paint from being tackled. He hated the the incessant hours of drills and practices- before and after school. He hated that the team parents were so aggressively involved that they ruined the sport for anyone who actually played because they liked it. He hated that when he got home every day, all he wanted to do was collapse into bed, but instead he had to change and drag his ass to work. But the thing he hated most of all was definitely the amount of padding he constantly had to lug around on his shoulders and back. There was absolutely no weather condition in which it was anything less than pure torture.

Every day, Gale imagined a new 5 second fantasy where he quit the team. Some were dramatic, he'd imagine throwing his gear to the turf and marching off the field without a word. And others were more nuanced. He'd sit across from Coach and explain his decision rationally. Either way, he has 5 seconds of pure, unadulterated joy before some schmuck snapped the ball and the game was back on.

He couldn't quit and he knew it. If his grades were his ticket out of the coal streaked town, football was his backup ride. A second scholarship in case the academic one fell short. And his mother taught him to always have a backup.

Football gave him one other thing. It gave him access.

He had unfettered entry through the front doors of all the old-money estates and new-money mansions in town. He was the poor kid with talent. Their own little diamond in the rough. _Everyone_ wanted a piece of Gale Hawthorne, if only to take credit for his success.

At Capitol High, stereotypes were entirely accurate- rich kids stuck together, poor kids did the same. The kids from powerful families didn't give a fuck because they knew their parents could buy them into to any university in the country; the kids from the 'wrong side of the tracks' didn't give a fuck because they knew they'd be choking to death in the coal mines or knocked up with some coal miner's brat right out of high school.

The few people who crossed line, went from poor to rich or vice versa, had pitifully little to show for their efforts. Haymitch Abernathy went from dirt-poor to the richest, drunkest, _most unhappy_ in town; Cynthia Everdeen was a lovely woman in a run-down house and a ragged dress. Once upon a time, she'd been the pampered daughter of the wealthiest mine owner in three counties. She left everything behind to marry a coal miner who died in an accident and left her with one hungry little girl and another on the way.

Who'd want to cross the line after the examples Haymitch and Cynthia had set?

But Gale didn't have time to care about where the lines were. He barely had time to breathe. After his dad died in that same mine accident, Gale's mother, Hazelle, had laid down the law- _Nothing less than exceptional was acceptable_. So he wasn't just the running-back on Capitol's Varsity Football team (he'd been breaking school records since his freshman year), he also had the 3rd highest GPA in senior year and worked part-time at his grandfather's auto-repair shop.

He went to school, to practice, to work, then home to help Hazelle with the other kids. He didn't have time to listen to Cato's weekly declarations, although they were always undoubtedly entertaining. He always pretended though.

Every Monday morning started out the same, Cato and Marvel, and sometimes Finnick, went back and forth to pick one girl. One lucky (or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it) girl. Whoever fucked her first won. There was always an obscene amount of money involved- but for guys like Cato, the ones born with a silver spoon, money wasn't the object. They played for pride.

Another thing Gale didn't have time for. But he'd always pretend to care because Cato's front door and connections were only open for as long as Gale lied through his teeth.

Whoever the girl of the week was, she was in for some half-assed flirting and bad sex. But more likely than not, she'd be flattered by the attention and drop her panties the instant Cato crooked his finger (the guy's father had more money than Croesus). For her trouble, she'd be rewarded with a Bvlgari necklace, identical to the one Cato gave all his other girls, and a smack on the ass.

Gale turned slightly and narrowed his eyes at the blonde. Soon she'd just be another one of Cato's bitches. But…she looked familiar.

A sharp whistle dragged Gale from his thoughts. He dropped to the the grass for push-ups, four this time. As he hopped back to his feet, bouncing from one foot to the other to stay warm, Gale looked toward the girls again- they were practicing their halftime routine now. There was something about that blonde. She didn't look like your typical cheerleader. There was less pep in her step. Less bounce in her … ponytail. Gale smirked at his thoughts as he narrowed his eyes at her, determined to figure out who this Cato's new target was.

He shuffled to the edge of the end zone and waited for the whistle.

One short chirp and he sprinted along the white line on the turf. He could make out the navy and white "C" on her sweater now. A few more steps. Fuck, she turned away to grab her stupid pom-poms. Just a few more steps…

Wait- was that?

No. it couldn't be.

But it looked like... Undersee?

 _Madge Undersee?_

* * *

 _Look for Part II soon!_

 **-M-**


	5. I want Money, Power and Glory

**Prompt** : _Character A to Character B, "You're trying to seduce me, aren't you?"_

 _ **Warning— this is very, very explicit. Please don't read if you don't like smut!**_

* * *

"You shouldn't be here, Mr. Hawthorne." The Mayor's eyes met Gale's steely gaze over the corner of a newspaper. They were alone in the Mayor's office but that didn't mean their conversation would remain private. Nothing in politics ever stayed private. The Mayor casually thumbed to the next page. "Your presence has the potential to be… detrimental to my campaign."

"And that's all you care about, isn't it? Your campaign?" Gale let the door fall shut behind him, trapping them both in the the office. Or rather, trapping him in the office with one very dangerous public servant. It was just the two of them and the 4 walls, which eagerly listened for the slightest hint of scandal. Politics in District 12 was a dirty business full of people with gleaming, white smiles and blood-stained hands. It was all made even dirtier by the gloomy coal dust in the air.

Gale held the Mayor's gaze and approached the heavy oak desk. He was confident in his steps, too confident for the Mayor's comfort. In Mayor Undersee's opinion, the son of a coal-miner had no business being so self-assured in the presence of old money and an even older family name. But that didn't stop Gale Hawthorne. Other people's opinions seldom did. It seemed like nothing would ever stop him. The man was a force of nature, raging at the pillars of secrets and lies which bolstered the roofs of the high-society homes. He was a storm, howling at the windows of the Mayor's office. Like his namesake, Gale thundered and crashed, dismantling the archaic institutions, brick by brick.

As far as the Mayor was concerned, Hawthorne needed to be stopped.

Gale entered the Mayor's sanctum and glanced at what deep-pockets could buy.

Apparently quite a lot.

Everything screamed money. Bronze (probably real bronze) light fixtures, glowing warm with dim, golden light; dense, emerald-green rugs sprawled across glossy wood; and most importantly, paintings of old white men (probably all long-dead) hanging on the walls. Cold, marble-hard faces glaring down at him with disapproving eyes. Yet somehow, the most severe pair of eyes in the room belonged to the person sitting on the other side of the desk.

Gale supposed that the decor was specifically chosen to make wealthy people feel at home, but for someone like Gale, someone who didn't come from money, it was the furthest thing from home. He had the strangest thought that when he died, his personal hell would feel very similar to this.

"I am not ashamed to admit that I am concerned about my campaign, Mr. Hawthorne." The Mayor replied casually, snapping the newspaper closed and folding it into a sharp-edged rectangle. "So it would be best if you leave."

"Can't. We have a lot to discuss."

"I'm afraid this just isn't a very good time." The Mayor remained seated as if the desk could ward off the unwanted questions.

Gale could feel the Mayor's judgmental gaze on his coal-stained cuffs. He briefly thought of the crisp white button-down hanging from his bathroom door and was instantly glad that he hadn't gone through the effort to change. He was proud of the work he did, even if it left smudges on his shirts and an ache in his back, and he wasn't going to let some fat-cat politician shame him into presenting a false image. And if the evidence of hard work happened to make the politician uncomfortable, well then that was just the cherry on top.

"From where I'm standing, Mayor Undersee, this looks like the best time." Gale dropped into the seat across from the Mayor's desk and very deliberately leaned back, making himself comfortable in the stiff-backed chair. "It's becoming very difficult to get ahold of you." He reached across the desk and fished a campaign button from a decorative crystal jar. _'Undersee-The People's Choice'_. Overall, it was a surprisingly tame token to represent such a mercenary individual. But Gale considered the old-fashioned button. It was deeply reminiscent of a bygone era of camera-ready politicians who made dirty deals in exchange for support. A time when the poor stayed poor and the rich got richer. Maybe it was an appropriate symbol for the Mayor's vision, after all.

He imagined that many people looked at it and remembered a scrubbed-up version of the past. Anyone who looked beneath the surface, however, saw the truth- rivers of filth flowing through the veins of the elite.

"What can I say? My supporters demand my attention." The Mayor shrugged away any accusation in Gale's tone. "I would think someone like you would appreciate a politician who appeals to the masses."

"You don't appeal to the masses. I highly doubt you've ever even met 'the masses'." Gale scoffed and tossed the button in the Mayor's direction. They both watched as it skittered across the desk to an uneasy halt.

"Well I'm sitting here with you, aren't I? And according to the miners' union, the papers and my advisors, you're the leader of the masses." The Mayor sat back with a patronizing smirk, baiting Gale into a twisted game of words.

"And yet somehow you've avoided me for the past two weeks. So either I'm a very poor leader… or you are." Gale tilted his head knowingly. "But I'm not here to debate my merit as a leader, I'm here to tell you that there's a lot of people waiting for answers from you. And I'm one of them."

"I'd like nothing more than to give you your answers. I suggest you attend the next town hall- we'll be sure to make time for your questions."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Ignore me for long enough and you won't have to deal with the Worker's Union."

"I'm not ignoring you. It's just that my campaign staff happens to be very particular about whom I am seen with. You know how it is." The Mayor added with a negligent shrug. "Politics."

"I don't see any of your campaign staff here. So how 'bout it?" Gale leaned in as if they were sharing a secret. "Lets talk, off the record."

"Oh, Mr. Hawthorne, you of all people should know, 'off the record' means it's very much so 'on the record'." Mayor Undersee laughed. She looked vastly amused by his proposition.

"Well, what am I supposed to do? You won't answer my calls, you change your number. I mean, I'm not gonna be ignored, Mayor Undersee." Gale pressed his palms to her desk and stood, looming over her, forcing her to look up to meet his eyes.

"Yes, I hardly think a man of your considerable… stature has ever been ignored." Her eyes dismissively flicked over his wide shoulders and glowering expression. "And I assure you, I'm not ignoring you now." She stroked her finger over a minuscule scratch in the arm of her chair. "As I said earlier, this isn't a good time for a conversation."

"I'm not leaving. Not until you give me what I want." He remained standing, fists pressed to her desk, a silent threat hanging between them.

"Don't you understand? I can't give you what you want." The Mayor voice went flat. She stood and rounded the desk, her fingers gently skimming the the wood, just a whisper away from his hand. Gale tensed as she moved closer to stand behind him, lips inches from his ear. Her voice taunted him. "Even if I could, I wouldn't." He could hear the callous smile in her voice. "So if you don't mind Mr. Hawthorne, I'm going to have to ask you _please leave_."

She brushed past him without a second glance and made her way to the door. The harsh click of her heels on the mahogany floor echoed through the silence. Gale's fingers curled into tight fists, feeling more out of control by the second. He watched over his shoulder as she walked away with a straight spine and iron will. She moved with the confidence of someone who knew her place in the world- _at the very top._

Gale scoffed and turned to lean against the desk, crossing his arms across his chest. His eyes met hers through the silence of the office. She, at the door, looking every inch the queen she though she was. Madge Undersee truly believed that this office, the ridiculous title of Mayor, could protect her from the world.

She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes expectantly as her hand curved over the door handle. "Oh, and Mr. Hawthorne, if you would, please take the back door." The words sounded like a polite request, but he knew she wasn't asking. She was ordering. "It wouldn't do for anyone to _misunderstand_ your presence here." She opened the door to let in a sliver of white light from the hallway and turned to face him with an arched brow. "I'm sure you understand."

Madge swung the door open and propped her hip against it, resting one small hand on the opposite waist. Waiting, watching, as Gale pushed off the desk and approached her with long strides. Her face took on a meticulously practiced expression of bored indifference but every nerve in her body lit up when he stepped in front of her. His face was impassive, but she could tell by the way his lips were _ever-so-slightly_ pressed together that she had crossed the line.

You didn't dismiss a man like Gale Hawthorne. He absolutely wouldn't let you.

Of every adversary she had encountered on the twisted road to her success, he was the single most formidable one. A former soldier, _a war hero_. Gale Hawthorne was the reason District 12 still existed. He had lifted the people to his capable shoulders and given them a reason to hope- a reason to hold their heads high as they fought the war for peace. And when it was all over and the dust had settled, he had returned to his home, more beloved than ever before.

If there was ever anyone who could destroy her future, it was him.

Gale's flat gaze flicked over her, taking in her hair, glowing a burnished bronze in the low light; her impeccable skirt suit, pressed into sharp creases; and her polished leather heels. Perfect. Always so perfect. He moved slowly with great intention and jerked the door toward him, pulling it away from her hip. His big hand slid up the wood and pressed the door shut with a quiet _snick._

He took one step closer, now they were toe-to-toe, breathing the same air.

Another step, he blocked out the light from her desk lamp, casting her into shadow.

She had no choice but to retreat.

"If you're trying to intimidate me, Mr. Hawthorne, it won't work. I've gone head to head with some real mean sons of bitches. You're a walk in the park compared to them." Her voice was supremely unperturbed but she knew she was treading the line with a very dangerous man.

One who had done whatever was necessary in the name of freedom.

"Hmmm." he hummed, a rumble that vibrated through her body- low and deep.

He took another step closer, now she was pressed to the wall. Her back against wood and her front just inches away from a hot, hard deadly man. He smelled of smoke and grass. It was a dangerous combination. One with potential to cloud her judgement.

Some tiny part of her, the part that had forgotten how to admit defeat lit up. _Let it go, Madge_ , it told her, _This is one fight you might not win_. The rest of her, the adamance and willpower that had won every election, muffled that voice and shouted, _DON'T GIVE IN. NOT ONE INCH._

"Or maybe you think you can threaten me and I'll drop to my knees begging for mercy."

He ignored her vitriolic tone and dropped his gaze to his wrist to unbutton his cuffs. Every movement was deliberate. Madge found that she couldn't tear her eyes away from his agile fingers, grey around the fingernails where coal had permeated his skin. A flick of his wrist here, and turn there, and his sleeve was neatly rolled up to his elbow.

He still didn't look at her.

He brought the other wrist between them and began the hypnotic process again- button, button, fold, straighten, and repeat. Madge's vision blackened at the edges as she realized how shallow her breaths had become.

"I'm not trying to intimidate you, Mayor Undersee. And I won't threaten you." Gale's lips quirked up as he finally, finally met her eyes. His flinty, even gaze met her calculating one. "As for you dropping to your knees," He glanced down her body, burning a hot path with his eyes. "I don't expect that either. But I can't pretend I wouldn't enjoy seeing that." Gale leaned into her body, surrounding her with heat and muscle. He gently stroked the backs of his fingers up her arm, grinning when her eyes slid shut. "I'm going to make you a deal."

Magde's lips opened wordlessly as his fingers skated across her collarbone and curved around her neck. Her head fell back against the wall when Gale ducked his head to press a slow, wet, open-mouthed kiss to her throat. "You couldn't possibly offer me anything," she gasped into his hair as her fingers slid up to grip his head.

"Hmmm," Gale's tongue smoothed over her pulse as his hands slid lower, lower, lower. "We'll see." He pulled away, still squeezing handfuls of her ass, and took in her glazed eyes and flushed skin.

"Mr. Hawthorne, You're trying to seduce me, aren't you?"

"Would you like me to seduce you?"

"I think I would enjoy that," her gaze raked over him, lingering a moment too long at his messy hair. "I'd enjoy it quite a bit."

"Far be it from me to spoil your fun." He tugged at her skirt, pulling it up inch by inch.

Madge wondered what he wold do next, slide his fingers between her thighs? No, that was too tame. Hoist her up and grind against her until she came all over him? _Maybe_ … definitely, maybe.

Gale rucked her skirt up to her waist and slid his fingertips into the waistband of her panties, flicking them to snap against her hips. Maybe he was going for tame, after all. He pressed himself against her belly, he was already hard. Then he did the unexpected and slowly lowered himself to his knees.

As she attempted to steady herself, she felt his warm hands circle her bare ankles. At once, awareness raced up her calves and weakened her knees. Her breath hitched in her throat as those hands stroked higher up the backs of her legs, fingers dragging lightly on her skin and shooting lightning up her back. The hands went higher, until they reached her thighs, which were already flexing in anticipation. Then she felt damp pressure trail over the inside of her knee. She glanced down, but could only see the black of his hair between her feet. _Was that his mouth?_ When the unmistakable sensation of a tongue licked over the flesh of her inner thigh, she slumped back onto the wall with a breathy moan.

Briefly, she wondered why this felt so right, when seconds ago, the idea of being along with Gale had felt infinitely wrong. Rational thought fled as his seeking, reckless hands followed in the past of his tongue, kneading and smoothing as they went. They could have only one destination. She needed to be touched there so badly, she ached badly. Almost enough to beg. Madge's thighs began to part when it registered how fast they were moving. How, in mere seconds, she'd gone from controller to controlled. Before the door had closed, she'd had every intention of throwing him out, yet now this Gale's touch had transformed her into a willing participant. His roughness felt unfamiliar, but her body responded as though it had been… _expecting_ this kind of treatment from him.

Her heartbeat accelerated as the hands, the mouth on her legs grew hotter. Oh, God. Lust twisted in her belly. A man like Gale would move fast, give her one choice only. To receive pleasure. She shouldn't like it. Shouldn't _need_ it. Confusion shone through the growing need. They needed to slow down so she could figure out where it was coming from.

She stayed his ascending hand, the one creeping under the edge of her panties, with her own. "Wait. Aren't you going to…"

His growl of frustration vibrated against her thigh and she sucked in a breath. Madge's brow furrowed as desperately tried to organize the chaos of her thoughts.

"Aren't you going to at least kiss me first?" No answer.

He sighed loudly and she felt him rise to his feet. His larger frame crowded her against the door, fitting them together in a way that was blatantly indecent. She felt his arousal, thick at her belly. Her breasts flattened against his chest in a way that felt sinful and divine simultaneously. Warm breath skated over her cheekbone and sent shivers down her neck.

"Kiss you where?" Gale's voice was a rough, almost inaudible whisper that bathed her in blistering heat. "Your mouth? Or the slick little pussy you're hiding from me?"

Madge gasped loudly in the darkness, her entire world tilting on its axis. No one had ever dared to speak to her in such a crude manner. She heard her chief of staff, Effie's voice, echoing through her thoughts, _"He's a coal miner, what did you expect? He has a filthy mouth to go with those filthy hands of his."_

She opened her mouth to demand an apology when a loud sound echoing in the room brought her back to reality. She realized it was her own heavy, panting breath. No. No way. It couldn't have turned her on. She couldn't actually like his dirty words. _Could she?_ Her body hummed like a swarm of bees, the body she continued to press against him so very intimately. Begging for even more contact.

 _What are you going to do, Madge? Walk away when you're finally feeling something with a man? When someone has finally succeeded in evoking an emotion other than tepid interest?_

"Both." She swallowed hard, unable to keep the words to herself. His mouth. _His tongue._ She wanted them so bad it pained her. She wanted him. "Just kiss me. I don't care."

She felt a ripple of shock go through him, and her body answered it. With a loud groan, his mouth came down on hers, hard and punishing. He kissed her almost angrily, forcing her lips apart and sweeping his tongue inside in a way meant to provoke her. Incite her. Madge couldn't get enough of his hard mouth moving like a brand over hers. She dug her fingers into the collar of his shirt and tugged him down as she pushed higher on her toes to meet him. They kissed furiously until breath ran scarce, pausing to draw air and bite at each other's lips. Not one single coherent thought broke through the haze coursing through her. She felt needy, out of control, hot. With a sound of frustration, she clutched his shoulders and slung one leg around his thigh, pulling him in until the hard muscle pressed to the dampness of her panties.

If she had been in anything resembling a normal state of mind, she might have been disgusted by her lack of finesse, the artlessness of it all. But there was no space in her head for those thoughts. All she needed was more, more, more.

She ground against his leg in tiny circles, pressing the wetness through his slacks. She rode him with a single minded determination.

An animalistic groan tore from his throat as his fingers dug into her hips and held her there. Wanting. Desperate for more. Madge opened her mouth to issue a demand for more pressure, but her backside slammed into the door as he shoved her away, breaking the vice-like grip of her leg. She cried out into the encompassing darkness as he growled into her neck.

"No."

She heard a pathetic moan leave her lips. _Or maybe it was a whine?_ If she could, she knew she would ignore his order and get back to what she had been enjoying moments earlier. But his grip was too strong. Gale maneuvered her backwards, pressing her shoulders to the wall, then kicked her feet apart. He dropped to his knees between them and nipped at her thigh as he slid a hand over her hip to hold her in place. Her scent clouded his head, and he lost himself in the moment. Turning his head, he nipped the other thigh, and slid his fingers into the waistband of her panties. He slid them to the floor and slipped one foot out of them. Rather than letting her foot back down to the floor, he hooked her knee over his shoulder and held her wide open.

She glistened in the low light, pink and soft and _wet_. _So wet._ Everything he wanted to lose himself in. He spread her open with his thumbs and blew a soft stream of hot air against her clit, filling with pleasure as her thighs trembled. He wedged his shoulders between her legs to keep them open as he licked his way up the inside of her thighs. She felt so open, so exposed and wanton as he stroked his thumbs through her folds.

"You're so wet and I barely even touched you." He spread her wider and laved one long, languid stoke of his tongue against her. She gyrated against him, her muscles straining, small whimpers echoing on her sighs.

He caressed her thigh and pressed his fingers up into her. He filled her in one deep, gentle thrust and she fell back, moaning when his fingers began pull out again. Madge closed her eyes and let sensation take over. When his middle finger crooked and rotated, finding that delicious spot inside her, her back arched on a cry. She felt the heat of his breath between her thighs. He flicked her aching clitoris with his thumb, in perfect rhythm with his pumping fingers. Madge could feel herself begin to clench, the heat within her rising to a boiling point. Gale's fingers moved faster, in and out, urging her closer. Dangling over the edge, she felt him suck her clitoris into his mouth, rolling it on his tongue and growling. His fingers pushed deep and held, tethering her to the edge of orgasm. _Too close to back down and to far away to finish._

Her breath choked on a frustrated gasp as she scraped her nails over his scalp, intending to cause him pain for leaving her empty.

Her desperate sounds roared his in his ears. There were so many things he wanted to do so badly.

He sucked her swollen clit into his mouth. Flicking her softly, then harder, until her hands fisted in his hair. She bucked against him, holding him in place with her leg over his shoulder as her hips sawed back and forth.

"How bad do you want it?" As much as she wanted more, she could only move as much as Gale would let her. And right now, he wanted her to ride his tongue. He wanted to watch as she lost control with his mouth on her pussy.

"Bad, please Gale. Please, please, _please_." She was begging. Madge Undersee _never_ begged for anything. Until now, apparently.

He slid his index and middle finger up through her folds and clamped them down on either side of her clit. She cried out, sparks of light flashing behind her eyes as he held her clit captive. He continued to pound into her without even a hitch in his pace, his fingers on her clit sliding, plucking, and pinching. Sensation upon sensation whirled through her, taking over, stealing her will. She rose higher and higher, her breath catching, her heart maybe stopping. He released her clit and hooked his hand around her thigh as he buried his face between her legs. His stubble scraped at her raw skin and her juices dripped down his chin but he didn't stop. She was nearly there. Every stroke took her higher, higher until she was about to burst.

Then- nothing. No hands. No fingers. No tongue or lips or mouth. Just Gale- gently sliding her thigh off his shoulder and rising to his feet.

Startled, Madge blinked. "I'm so close—"

"Yeah, I gathered that." Gale glanced at his right hand. The one that had been inside her, the one that had fucked her to the edge of insanity, and raised his eyebrow. He sucked his index and middle finger between his lips, tasting her. "Don't worry, Mayor Undersee, I'll take the back door- can't have anyone misunderstanding what happened here." He stepped back, unfazed by her appearance, skirt around her waist, panties abandoned on the floor, pussy still dripping down her thighs. "You know where to find me."

* * *

 **Next Prompt** : TBD!

If anyone has suggestions for a prompt, send them my way!

-M-


	6. The Weather Outside Is Frightful

**Prompt** : _Let it snow_

* * *

 **Oh the weather outside is frightful**

"Use this for your friend," Madge's hands trembled as she thrust the glass vial into Katniss's hands. The falling snow muted her harsh whisper."

She might have been shivering from the cold but it was more likely from the fear. Fear of the new peacekeepers- cruel and distant in their pristine snow-white uniforms. Fear for Gale, strong Gale who always seemed so invincible. He didn't seem invincible when Katniss had dragged him from the square hours earlier, his body limp and bloody.

She heard a low, broken moan the moment before she'd knocked on the door. So different from the last time he'd spoken to her. _Pretty dress_ , he'd said all those months ago. She hated the words then but would have given anything for him to say them now.

Katniss's eyes were hard as she tightened her fist around the bottle. "He can't pay you for this."

Money. It all came down to money. She wanted to shake Katniss by the shoulders and shout, "I don't need his money I need him to live!"

"Don't tell him." The flat words fell from her lips before she could stop them.

He already hated her for all the wrongs she'd committed. For having the audacity to be born on the wrong side of town, to have the wrong color hair, to wear a new dress on the single worst day of the year. What was one more thing to hate?

Yet she couldn't bear it if he hated her for this.

"Don't tell him," She repeated firmly.

"I won't lie to him." Katniss stepped away from her, one foot back in her world. "But I won't say anything if he doesn't ask."

The door shut quietly, a permanent barrier keeping her on the outside. She couldn't give him warmth or comfort, he already had Katniss for that. She couldn't give him friendship, he would reject that. But she could give him morphling.

 **But the fire is so delightful**

Hot flames licked up his back, scorching his bones and devouring his flesh. With every pulse of his heart, he felt another lash of the whip.

Had it been hours? Days? Maybe longer. Maybe he was dead and this would be his eternity. Burning for his sins while the voices of the living pleaded for his soul. His mother, Rory, Vick.

He wanted to shout to them, tell them to save their time. Life was cruel, why should death be any different?

Cool metal pressed to his cracked lips. He wanted to laugh. They offered water to a dead man. A solitary glass of water to douse the white-hot fire. Still, he drank with greed. If this was his last sip of water, then he would be damned if he didn't get every drop of it.

He slumped back down, coal dirtied hands dangling past the edge of the table and silently prayed to whoever listened to let him die.

Then the fury calmed. The curdling heat left his bones and a gentle haze came down over his eyes. Grey, like everything else in the godforsaken district, but painless. Chilled fingers pressed to his cheeks and stroked damp hair back from his temples. His blurry eyes focused on her. Dark hair, dark eyes. She looked like an angel come to save him from the wrathful pain.

Katniss.

Maybe death had come for him after all.

 **Since we've no place to go**

She stood in the shadows of the house, praying that the peacekeepers didn't come this far. There was no logic or reason as to why she stayed for so long after Katniss closed the door.

A naive hope, maybe.

Of course, she didn't expect Gale to leap to his feet at the first sip of morphing. Didn't expect him to throw open the door and whisk her into his arms with a plea, 'don't ever leave me'.

Dull embarrassment flushed her cheeks. No, she didn't expect anything at all but she stayed anyway, cheek pressed to the hinge of the door.

His earlier groans had quieted into rattling gasps. Somehow that seemed even worse as if he didn't have the will to fight any longer. The rushed footsteps had also stopped, no one was moving.

Was she too late? Did her fear of the peacekeepers prevent her from getting him morphling in time?

She cursed her stupidity for waiting. She should have been braver. She should have just brought the morphling as soon as it happened rather than waiting for the dark.

She should have been more like Katniss.

 **Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow"**

She sprinted through the pitch black of the night, gasping for air through her tears. She made desperate bargains with the desolate world. If Gale lived, she would volunteer for the next reaping. No, she wouldn't. She was too much of a coward for that. If he lived, she would… she would do nothing. She would remain in the shadows, watching and wanting. Then she would do her duty and marry another townie while he slipped deeper into Katniss's magnetism.

Even now, back on the "safe" side of the district, she couldn't shake the looming fear from the Seam. IT had settled in her belly and threatened to claw its way up her throat.

She skidded on the ice and landed on all fours. For several painful moments, the air left her body and the world spun. Her pitiful, choked coughs brought no relief from the harsh darkness closing in. Then the panic broke and she sucked in a deep breath of icy air.

She told herself it was better this way. She would go home and forget tonight. He would never need to know and life would continue as it should.

* * *

 **Next Prompt** : TBD!

If anyone has suggestions for a prompt, send them my way!

-M-


	7. Let's Talk About Sex, Baby

**Prompt** : _Character A to Character B, "I just can't cum, ok?"_

 _ **Warning— this is very, very explicit. Please don't read if you don't like smut!**_

* * *

"Well that was fun" Madge tossed a wadded up handful of paper towels into the trash can. "I mean right up until your girlfriend went psycho."

"She's not my girlfriend, Madge." Gale's exasperated voice carried over the sound of the vacuum.

"Really? Does she know that?"

"Alright, alright, I get it." Gale flipped the vacuum off and dropped into a chair, leaned back, and scrubbed one hand over his eyes. "She's fucking crazy and I shouldn't have brought her here."

Madge hummed in agreement and went back to wiping down the counters with wet wipes.

"But in my defense, she's hot as hell. You can't blame a guy for trying with a girl like that."

"Why do all you guys go for the crazy ones?"

Gale pushed off the chair and joined her in the kitchen. He rested his elbow on the counter next to her, "Because the crazier they are, the hotter they are. And they're better in bed." He groaned and shook his head with a laugh. "Man when I say she was good in bed… Fucking hell, I'd do it all over again just for a piece of that ass."

She glanced at him in disgust, "Well on that note, I think it's time for you to go."

"Oh come on, you've definitely heard worse from the guys you date." Gale scoffed. "I mean, Jesus, Madge. That guy you invited tonight?"

"What about him?"

"First of all, he should have stuck around to help you clean up." Gale hauled the overflowing trash bag out of the can and dropped it by the front door. "And second, I'm pretty sure I saw him leave with that girl from your work. The brunette with the nice -"

"He's not my boyfriend or anything," Madge interrupted quickly before Gale could start talking about the brunette's ' _nice whatevers'_. "He's allowed to leave with whoever he wants."

"I was going to say she has nice eyes," Gale smirked at her. "You know, you have a dirty mind behind that sweet face."

"And besides," Madge ignored him and continued her halfhearted defense of Cato, "It's not like I asked him to stick around or anything."

"Whatever you say Madgie, but you and I both know he wouldn't have stayed just to help you clean up. Maybe if you promised a quick fuck or something, but even then, I doubt it."

Gale saw the tips of her ears turn pink as she turned away from him.

"But it's not like he's any better than the other guys you've dated." Gale followed her into the living room, empty bag in hand. "That other guy before him- the one with the frosted tips. Who does he think he is, Justin Timberlake? But at least wannabe JT was a nice guy. I remember that dickhead from last year whose hands were literally attached to your ass 24/7."

"They weren't attached to my-"

Gale spoke over her, ignoring the irritated expression on her face. "Don't get me wrong, there's nothing wrong with grabbing a good handful of ass once in a while but he was just excessive."

"Everyone has redeeming qualities, Gale."

"Not the ass grabber. And _definitely_ not Cato." Gale held the bag open next to the coffee table as she swept a heaping pile of trash into it. "Why do you date those clowns?" He met her eyes, completely serious.

"I don't know," she shrugged uncomfortably under his gaze. "I guess I just attract assholes. It's a curse."

"Try again. I know Peeta had a thing for you before he and Katniss got together. And there was that guy tonight, the big football player- nicest guy I've ever met. He couldn't take his eyes off you and I know you noticed that."

"Thresh?"

Gale nodded.

"He's just being nice."

"Pretty sure he would have helped you clean up if you even looked in his general direction."

"Ugh, just let it go Gale." Madge grabbed the bag from his hands. "Thanks for helping me clean up."

"I can't let it go, Madgie. These guys are crap and you could do so much better!"

"Some of them are nice!" she retorted.

"Yeah," Gale agreed. "Some of them are. But a girl like you? You could do better."

"Wow, You're shallow."

he shrugged. "I mean you're too nice for that shit. Anyway, at least I have a reason for dating crazy people. What's your excuse?"

"You wouldn't get it." She pushed past him and dropped the now full trash bag by the door, trying to calm the flutter in her belly every time he called her Madgie.

"Then help me." He was right on her heels, "I care about you!"

"No, it's just- it's stupid. You wouldn't get it." She repeated as she glanced down at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink.

Gale nudged her to the side and reached past her to grab a sponge. She could feel the tension in his shoulders as he spoke again, slowly as if speaking to a child. "You're better than them. You're better than all of them. What could they possibly offer you?"

Madge stayed silent as he began washing a sticky, rum-soaked glass.

"Oh come on, don't freeze me out now."

She groaned and pressed her the heels of her palms against her eyes. "You ever heard the phrase 'you have to kiss a few frogs to find a prince'."

"So Cato is your prince?"

"No. but I'm hoping he won't let me down."

"Spoiler alert, he will." Gale handed her the clean glass. "And I think you know that."

"Maybe I date them for the same reason you do," she dried the glass and slid it into an empty cabinet. "Maybe they're just _fabulous_ in bed, Gale."

"Are they? Because I mean, if they are then I'll let it go." Gale handed her another glass.

She sighed heavily and reached past him to turn off the tap. He saw the irritation in her eyes give way to defeat. "I'm going to answer your question and then you're going to drop it." She wedged her hip against the counter, crossed her arms tightly across her chest and met his gaze. She could feel the alcohol loosening her lips.

"No lies."

"No lies." She nodded and inhaled sharply. "They suck in bed. Or maybe I do- I don't know." She scrubbed her palms over her face. "I think it's me," she backtracked, tensing up as she continued. "I'm like, _90 percent_ sure I'm the problem. I mean, it's statistically impossible that every guy I've slept with is trash in bed, right? I'm the common denominator so it's gotta be me."

Gale jerked back in concern at the sudden rush of words. "Hang on, slow down." He reached toward her and wrapped big, warm palms around her upper arms. She was coiled up and tight, ready to burst at any moment. "I don't under-"

"I've can't cum, ok?" Madge flung her hands up in defeat, throwing his grasp off. "I just haven't- I don't even think I can!" Her face heated up in mortification. She wasn't seriously having this conversation with Gale of all people. And yet… she didn't want to stop. Now that her dirty little secret had crawled out of its grave, it wasn't going back without a fight.

"But you've had sex before, right?"

"Of course I have, Gale" She rolled her eyes and desperately tried to act casual, like confessing her inability to orgasm to the hottest guy she'd ever known was a totally normal thing to do. "I've just never been able to finish."

"What about on your own? Can you make yourself... you know?"

""In theory, yes. But I'm not sure if I actually have..." She trailed off.

"I feel like this is one of those things where you either have or haven't. There's not much room for interpretation."

"Then I guess I haven't, Gale. And now this conversation is over."

Gale laughed in disbelief, "Sorry, it's not over yet. What? Those guys just fuck you until they get themselves off and walk away?"

"No, I mean, well, sometimes, but some of them have really tried- I still just can't"

"What the hell do you mean sometimes?" Gale followed her into the living room where she collapsed onto the sofa and pressed a throw pillow to her face. "What kind of guys are you fucking, Undersee? And what the hell are you doing now?"

"Trying to suffocate myself." Her voice muffled by a face full of magenta velvet.

He snagged a corner of the pillow and tossed it to the floor as he flopped down next to her.

"They're nice guys, Gale." She half-heartedly defended them, eyes firmly glued to the ceiling. "Well, usually. It's not always their fault I can't cum. Don't get me wrong, some guys didn't even bother- but some of them really tried and I still just couldn't!"

He reached for the half-full bottle of rum on the coffee table and took a deep draw as if he needed it for the question he was about to ask. "Did they know?"

She shifted uncomfortably, "I think they just assumed I did..."

Gale raised an eyebrow, "because..?"

"I kind of faked it?"

"Is that a question?"

"No, I mean, I felt bad. And kind of bored sometimes, there's only so long I can pretend to enjoy it. So faking it just seemed like the quickest solution." She briefly turned her head and met his eyes then grabbed the bottle from his slack hand and turned back to stare at the ceiling, sipping slowly.

"Undersee if those guys believed you when you faked it, then they're fucking idiots." He leaned back to mimic her posture. "And they're shit in bed."

She hummed in agreement and took another long sip from the bottle, knowing it was a bad idea to mix this conversation with alcohol.

"You're sleeping with the wrong kinds of guys."

"They weren't all so bad." She handed the bottle back to him.

Gale stayed silent for a few moments and let his eyes droop closed. "If it was me, I'd never let you walk away knowing you didn't… you know. Knowing you didn't cum."

She flushed pink as the image of Gale making her cum invaded her thoughts. It should be illegal for a guy like him to say something like that. She replied with a light tone, hoping to sound nonchalant.

"You'd never know I faked it." She sat up and faced him. "I'm that good."

"No one's that good."

She couldn't believe they were suddenly joking about her most embarrassing confession but couldn't let go of his wildly confident declaration.

"So what? You think you're the right kind of guy?" She didn't know why she was pressing the issue so much.

She should have let it go. Should have laughed and blamed it on the alcohol but God, he looked so sexy. Relaxed and maybe a little drunk and tired. The top two buttons of his Henley were undone and his sleeves were rolled up, One arm slung over the back of the sofa, fingers trailing precariously close to her shoulder. The other hand wrapped loosely around the neck of the bottle. The dim lighting cast a soft amber glow, but it was enough. She could see him clearly and that was reason enough to keep talking.

"You really think you could do it when none of the other guys did?" She pressed her knee into the cushions and leaned closer, as if to tell him a secret, letting her rum scented breath ruffle his hair. She threw his words back at him, "No one's that good."

Gale suddenly opened his eyes and sat up, throwing her off balance. She caught herself with one hand pressed halfway between his neck and shoulder, her thumb on scalding, bare skin.

She didn't move. He didn't move. They sat facing each other, sharing breath. Never touching more than that one finger on his skin, gently stroking now.

He glanced down her body, eyes dragging down her neck and catching at the open V of her sweater. Long moments passed in charged silence then, as if someone had struck a match, igniting the air around them.

Madge didn't know who moved first. It could have been her, sliding her hand up into his hair and pulling him closer. It could have been him, toppling her back into the cushions and catching her gasp with his lips. It didn't matter.

Gale slid his hand around her neck and into her hair, forcing her to tilt just right. She gasped as their lips pressed together, again and again, arching up and wrapping her arms around his neck.

He groaned and pressed his big frame against her. His hands were everywhere, fingertips scraping against her scalp, digging into her waist.

The feel of him against her was straight out of her dreams. Wetness pooled between her thighs as she writhes beneath him, spreading her legs enough to hook her ankles behind his calves.

And good God, he could kiss.

Her hands were in his hair, tugging as she sucked rum off his tongue. She moaned into his mouth.

"Maybe I'm the right guy." His voice was needy. "God, I want you." Urgent.

His hot mouth moved down her neck. He was exactly how she thought he'd be. A little rough and completely unrestrained. Teeth scraping and nipping as his soft lips and tongue sucked.

She whimpered when he sat back on his heels and pulled away until he reached over his shoulder and stripped off his shirt. She sat up, unwilling to keep her hands off his body for more than a few seconds and spread her palms wide across his abdomen. Their hands collided at his zipper, her desperately trying to pull it down as he caught her wrists to slow her down.

"Easy Madgie," He took over, popping the button and pilling down the zipper before getting distracted with yanking her sweater over her head. They worked together to push her tight jeans down her things, then he sat back on his heels and tugged them off in one fluid motion, discarding them somewhere on the floor.

He sank back into her, bracing his weight on his elbows and dipping lower. When Gale rocked his hips forward and pressed the heavy ridge of his dick against her, she gasped and dug her nails into his skin. "God, yes."

"Yeah?"

She nodded fast, dropping her knees wider and gripping his trim waist. She pulled his closer and arched up.

Gale smoothly moved again, another surge between her legs. This one working into a glide and ending with a drawn-out grind straight against her clit. His mouth dropped open through a moan. His hand wiggled between them and squeezed her lace-covered breast. Her fingers slid to his mouth, and she whimpered when he sucked on the tips.

"Kiss me," She begged, gripping handfuls of his hair.

Gale rocked into her again and crushed their mouths together, his hand staying between them as he slid the lacy cup aside and rolled her nipple to a stiff peak.

"Oh God," She gasped. "Don't stop."

"This?" he asked, his thumb teasing her. His hips pistoned relentlessly as his pace grew desperate. "Fuck," he breathed against her neck. "Ah…holy shit." He harshly grabbed her breast.

He slid his hand into her matching lace panties and mumbled something about _'of course they match'_ against her skin and pressed his finger against her.

She arched up and unsnapped her bra, tossing it to the side as Gale hooked his arm under her knee, opening her up for him on the cramped sofa. He brushed two fingers between her legs, playing with the soft folds of skin, then dove in with his middle and fourth finger.

Her body gripped him. She was soaked and shaking, sharp little nails digging into his shoulders.

He pressed his mouth against hers and moved his thumb over her clit, stroking back and forth with gentle pressure.

Madge shuddered and gasped against his tongue. "You're…very good with that left hand."

"You sound surprised."

"Well, you're right-handed."

"I'm ambidextrous." He looked down between her legs, curled his fingers inside her and pressed in, pumping them.

"Ugnh." She arched off the sofa, breathless. "Good, that's… _so good_. Holy shit." She lifted her head and mouthed at his jaw, teeth scraping stubble. Her hand found its way into his briefs and artlessly freed him from them.

It was messy and methodless, jumping from firm to soft. Her hold tightening around the base, pulling to the tip, barely touching the head and then gripping mid-shaft. He dropped his sweat sickened forehead against her throat and found one nipple with his lips.

She frantically stroked, unconsciously syncing to the rhythm of his fingers.

He went faster, spurred on by her low gasps and moan. He pumped his fingers fast into her pussy and rubbed her clit, thrilled by the wetness dribbling down his wrist. She spread her knees wider, one knee wedging into the couch cushions and the other proper up high with the support of his arm.

"Gale-" She gasped, writhing on the sheets. "I- I…Please, I—" She fumbled for words. Didn't know what to beg for. But knew she just needed more. She jolted when his arm twisted and found purchase on the sofa, now in a position to relentlessly pursue her orgasm. His wrist was a blur, pounding into her while his thumb stroked tight circles around her clit. She heard her breath, hoping, praying that this would get here there. It was too much and not enough all at once. She reached down with both hands and harshly pushed his wrist away.

"I _can't_." She moaned desperately and tossed her head back in defeat. He could see tears of frustration rolling down her temples and disappearing into her hair. "I'm sorry, Gale." She pressed her fingertips to her eyes, "I told you, I just can't."

"Hey," he slid one hand away from her face and kissed her palm. "You didn't do anything wrong." He kissed her slowly, lips and tongue teasing hers as he smoothed her hair back from her face. "We're just getting started."

He settled back against her, face buried against her neck, laving wet kisses down to her collarbone. She was stiff against him and slowly relaxed as he toyed with her. He gripped her breast with one hand, flicking his thumb over her hardening nipple as the other palm stroked up her thigh, all the while, grinding his bare cock against her pussy.

He palmed her breasts, and then bit them as her soft voice begged. Do it and again and again, Gale, please.

He sucked on her nipples. He twisted them between his fingers and his lips left red marks that would undoubtedly bloom into dark purple bruises by morning.

She reached for him and whimpered when he sat back and slid down her body to kneel on the floor. He yanked her upright until she was slouched on the sofa with both thighs slung over his shoulders.

Every muscle in her body tensed.

Putting your mouth on a woman there, in her opinion, was a much more intimate act than sex. There was something profoundly personal about it. Hell, not all men even did it. Some of her ex-boyfriends outright told her how they thought it was 'disgusting'.

And Gale was looking to get intimate with her.

He dropped his head between her legs and swiped his hot tongue through her pussy.

"Oh, god," She moaned, back arching and hands reaching down to grab handfuls of silky, brown hair.

He had his hands wrapped around her thighs and was yanking her closer to his mouth. She looked down at him, watching in wonder and studying, learning the way he went down on a woman. He didn't start slow. He wasn't savoring.

Gale was ravenous. Greedy. He spoke against her flesh, saying hottest pussy and so wet and so fuckin' good. He nipped at her thighs every time they threatened to clamp down to slow him down. He wasn't simply licking and tasting to see if he liked it. He was eating and consuming, knowing he wanted it all. Hard, hungry lips and a tongue that felt like fire. He was rough.

He was unforgettable.

"Gale, oh, God," She cried, tugging so hard on his hair he growled between her legs. The sudden violence didn't stop him. If anything, it spurred him on and drove him a little crazy. He kept going, sucking on her clit and speaking words against her flesh that sounded dirty even though she couldn't make them out over her broken gasps. He didn't try to push her over the edge this time. Didn't try to overwhelm her. He listened when she silently pushed him away and stroked his lips against the insides of her thighs as she composed herself.

She pushed herself upright and watched as Gale got to his feet between her legs. He chuckled at her dazed expression and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he shoved his briefs down, and even though she'd had her fingers wrapped around him, she was still taken by surprise by just how fortunate he was in that department. While she was busy staring, he hoisted her up and slung her over his shoulder, laughing loudly when she squealed in surprise.

"Gale! What are you doing!" She kicked out her legs, attempting to slide out of his grasp.

He smacked one heavy palm against the side of her ass with a loud crack as he kicked his pants and briefs off.

"Don't make me drop you," He turned his head to nip the soft flesh of her hip then walked through the dark apartment to her bedroom.

He tossed her onto her mattress with a bounce and followed behind her after dropping two condoms onto her nightstand.

"Relax, babe," Gale chuckled, and kissed her, cupping her face between his palms. He met her eyes and smiled at her. "Don't worry if you can't cum, just tell me how I can make it good for you."

Madge was taken aback by his sudden honesty and kissed him again as she nodded. She settled back against the headboard, watching as he rolled the condom down his length.

He dropped his hands to the mattress and crawled over her, settling between her legs with elbows bracing his weight. She brushed her fingers over his neck and lower, mouth opening against his cheek, his jaw, and lower.

"You ready?"

"Yes."

"You like me?"

She smiled. "No."

He smiled back, lips curling beautifully. "Liar," he murmured. He kissed her as his hand slid between them, positioning his swollen head against her, and then he pushed in.

"Gale," She whimpered over the sound of his strangled groan. She gasped as she felt the stretch. "Oh, my God."

He kept pushing in. Slowly…

Even though he shook and growled like he wanted to fuck harder, and even though she pulled at his shoulders then gripped his ass, Gale took his sweet time sinking deep.

He let her feel every inch. He didn't rush it. But when he finally buried himself to the hilt, Gale stopped being civilized.

He reared back and started thrusting, hard, cock slamming deep as his mouth pressed to her ear where he asked, "What do you need?"

"God…" She bit her lip and moaned, pulling herself closer to him.

Gale leaned down and fucked deeper, barely pulling out before rocking back into her. He growled through a laugh, watching her writhe and beg beneath him.

"God," She moaned. She couldn't answer.

She held on and took what he gave, fingers scrabbling across his back, searching for something, anything to hold onto.

It was everything she needed, hot, sweaty, unforgiving.

She bit into his shoulder when he groaned against her ear whispering _filthy_ words about how _fucking tight_ she was and how she was killing him. She dug her nails into his back and rolled her hips up to meet his, gasping when her clit stroked against him just fucking right. She kissed him. Begged him to do it again and again.

Gale's hands hooked over her shoulders and pulled her tight against him, losing control as his hips stuttered and lost their rhythm.

"Fuck, Madge," He panted against her cheek. "I can't-" He thrust deep and ground against her clit. "I'm gonna cum."

She hooked her heels behind his knees and dug her fingernails into his waist. "God, yes," She whispered nonsensical words against his neck as she sucked at his salty skin. He dropped his face into her shoulder and groaned, low and loud, into her pillows as his entire body jerked against her.

She let her head fall back as she exhaled hard and pulled her scrambled brain together. Gale was still breathing heavily against her neck, holding some weight on his forearms but mostly limp with exhaustion. Their sweaty skin plastered together at the chest, hips, thighs. She didn't know when they became so tangled but found she didn't want to move. Well, she wouldn't want to move if there weren't 190 pounds of muscle crushing her into her bed.

She swept one hand up and carded it up through his hair, whispering his name.

"Right," He groaned in response and slowly pushed off her. "I'm probably suffocating you."

She laughed and unwound her legs, letting him slowly pull out with a low ' _fuck_ '.

He rolled to the side, pulling off the condom and balling it up in tissues before tossing it into the trash can. She sat up, half expecting him to get dressed make awkward excuses before stumbling out her front door but was pleasantly surprised when he casually yanked down the covers and sprawled out in her bed, nudging her thigh with her elbow.

"Shove over, Undersee. Can't you see I'm trying to sleep here?" He grinned up at her, clumsily maneuvering her until her back was pressed to his chest and both his arms were wrapped around.

"Who would have thought" She mused, "Gale Hawthorne is a cuddler."

"I don't know what you're talking about," He threw his leg over her, completely engulfing her in his embrace.

As she let her eyes fall shut and settled into his arms, he whispered against her skin, "Hey, I- I'm probably doing this backward but will you go out with me?"

She sleepily nodded and mumbled something about, 'obviously. That was the best sex ever.'

* * *

 **Next Prompt** : Noir Theme

If anyone has suggestions for a prompt, send them my way!

Also just wanted to gauge interest- would anyone want to read a Dark Gale/Madge story? It would be super dark and smutty. Gale is the new President of Panem and Madge is sold to him by District 2.


	8. Beauty Queen and her 10 Cent Pistol

**Prompt** : _Noir_

* * *

It was cold. It was dark. Just another lonely night in the city. But this night marked a big change. I was taking the big jump to the private sector. No more was I a uniformed flatfoot, a rookie cop walking the beat where spooks and dope fiends had a particular distaste for us boys in blue.

Especially in this town where the roaches got into every office, all the way up to the Governor's Mansion.

Couldn't tell you how many times I had to let a guy off because his boss's money found its way into the right pockets. It was a dirty business locking up good men and letting the rotten ones off with a handshake and a "sorry for the mix-up".

But now, I was one of the lucky ones. Got out without a bullet in my head. Feels good to be a free man. I could finally do some damn good around here. As I drove down 35the street to my new office in the shiny new high-rise, I drifted off into my daydreams. I'd be the hero with a capital H. I envisioned interrogating all sorts of fellas. Some of 'em I'd have to dig real deep to get 'em to say two words. Others would confess at the drop of a hat, right when I walked in the room. Wouldn't even have to flash my .45 at 'em.

Poor suckers.

I'd be the big man, hunting down the cockroaches taking over the city, grinding them into the pavement when I was done with 'em.

* * *

I watched the cleaner peel the plastic film from my door. Finally, after years of waiting, I saw the words up on the glass.

PRIVATE DETECTIVE

GALE HAWTHORNE

It got me higher than a damn kite. I didn't even need that liquid luck buried in my drawer. I took it out anyway, though. I'd be a fool not to. I'd be asking for trouble if I let someone else have the first drink in my new place of business.

I'd barely set the bottle on my desk when the phone rang.

Watch out, boys.

At this rate, I'd have to get myself an answering machine.

"Detective Gale Hawthorne?"

"Yeah."

Her voice was smoother than the whiskey, smokier than an opium den.

"I'm desperate. You have to help me."

Yeah, she sounded real desperate, too.

"What's makes you so desperate, lady?"

"I- I can't tell you."

Just my luck, my first caller's straight out of the looney bin.

"Well, you called me, so spit it out or get off my line." I propped a foot up on my desk and tilted my chair back. "This office only takes serious inquiries."

"I'm sorry," Her voice wavered and dropped lower, "I only meant I can't tell you over the phone. I have to tell you in person. Where can I meet you?"

"The corner of West and 35th. Second floor, end of the hall." I didn't give her time to reply. Chances were about one in one thousand that this broad would show up. Saw it all the time as a beat cop. Some lady's old man smacks her around a couple times and she gets hysterical on the telephone. By the time I get there, she's all dolled up making her man a sandwich. The bruises under her powder or heavy-handed lipstick to cover up a split lip were tell-tale signs of it. But still, she'd smile and say, "You must be mistaken, Officer," as she drapes herself over her fella's shoulder. She's the kind of customer that comes with the territory.

* * *

It was about an hour later and I was halfway through my second glass. The phone sat silent as the grave. You could have unplugged it and I wouldn't have known the difference. The sun was nearly set now, throwing loping shadows across my floor, catching particles of dust suspended in the air.

That's when she showed up. She was magnificent, pale and cold like marble. She dressed like a starlet of the silver screen. Tight black dress; wide-brimmed hat sloping low over her brow with a netted veil looped around her neck; a fur coat, must've been mink or fox. She had the reddest lips you've ever seen.

Everything about her was deliberate. She knew how she looked right then, stepping out of the dark hallway into the dying light of my office. She lifted her head and I was struck mute by the bluest eyes I'd ever seen.

She smoothly sat across from me. My heart was beating faster than I liked it to and I knew that getting mixed up with a doll this good looking and this ambitious would only bring me trouble. A woman who's had a few drinks, gets good and tight, and starts shouting is one thing. But a woman who's staring you down with no trace of a smile anywhere near her face? There's a kitten who could end my career and make a fool out of me if I gave in to what she could offer me. I knew she could ruin me.

* * *

She left just as she'd come, a cloud of smoke slinking away into the quiet night. This was no ordinary broad who'd been slapped around by her husband. She was so much more than that.

She'd sat just feet away and exposed the rotting underbelly of Capitol City to me. Her low, lilting voice, a byproduct of expensive finishing schools, wove a tale of imprisonment and betrayal. The protagonist, her husband- Cassius Snow, heir to the Snow Cosa Nostra.

Mrs. Madge Snow, neé Undersee. The second most important woman in the city- outranked only by the Governor's wife- her stepmother. There wasn't a single person in the city who could look at her the wrong way and live to tell the tale. As the wife of Cassius Snow, she was untouchable.

In just under two hours, she gave me everything I needed to pin down Snow, more specifically, to nail his son-of-a-bitch right-hand, Seneca Crane.

The last time I saw Crane, his shoes were splattered with Thom's blood. Only reason he left me alive was that he needed a fall guy and I was about to be that lucky bastard. My Captain tried to shield me from the worst of it, but even Haymitch underestimated how many rats were part of our ranks. In the end, I could either get out or watch them throw mud at my name.

So I left with a busted knee and a dead partner.

I even put Snow and Crane and the whole mess behind me. It was torture for the first few months, knowing we'd been so close that they had to take us out. But I'd shut up to keep Thom's girl, Delly and their boy alive.

But today, I had it. Everything we were looking for. Evidence that the Police Force, the pharmacies and illegal gin joints were all part of the racket. They were all conspiring to make a buck off the blood and sweat of ordinary folk.

Back then, when Thom and I were on the street, we were following thin lines of coke from one low-life dealer to the next. Now, with the names Mrs. Snow had thrown in my lap, I could go straight to the top.

I didn't have to ask what was in it for Mrs. Snow, the makeup was good, but not good enough to cover up the darkest of the bruises, especially the finger-shaped ones around her throat. I didn't have to ask, but I did anyway. Call it my due diligence. She wouldn't be the first dame to try to get me with a pretty face and a sob story.

She told me all about how it made her sick to her stomach to see what her father-in-law, Coriolanus Snow, did to the city. She'd grown up hearing about him from her father, then the Mayor. Tears streamed down her cheeks when she told me about the deals gone wrong in her father's pursuit of the Governor's Mansion. She stopped cold after she laid out the terms of the deal that ruined her life- Mayor Undersee would win the election and she would marry Snow's heir, no room for negotiation. She was the Persephone of our hellish little city, snatched away by Hades and his three-headed dog to live with the souls of the damned.

She said the world was turning grey before her eyes and she couldn't stand it any longer. She dreamed of murder and death. Of taking a gun and shooting her husband in the face or swallowing a handful of pills and coke to go to sleep. Sometimes, she said, she did both.

On her way out the door, she glanced over her shoulder. "Seneca had some business tonight," Her voice was flat, "The corner of 8th and Magnolia."

We both knew what that meant.

"There's a dead man waiting for you there, Mr. Hawthorne."

* * *

After she left, I rang up a rookie from the force, one who I knew had a kid on the way and needed some extra cash. I was looking for a way in, and he was it. We met a couple blocks off 8th and I slipped him a 50 dollar bill. Information was worth more than gold in my line of work.

"Hawthorne." I shook his hand and introduced myself.

He knew who I was but didn't give a damn. I don't know if it was morals or money, but he had a lot to say.

"Stiff's name is Heavensbee." He clamped a cigarette between his lips. "Plutarch Heavensbee. Ever heard of him?"

I glanced over at him, hoping he didn't see me flinch. Yeah, I'd heard of Heavensbee. He was your run of the mill drug peddler, getting all sorts of people hooked on the hard stuff. But once upon a time, he'd been Thom's CI.

He'd scurried underground after everything went to shit and try as I did, I couldn't track the little rat down.

Looks like Crane got to him first.

It was a blow to my ego, finding out I couldn't even nab the guy who got Thom killed.

As I walked toward 8th, the rookie got in one last jab. "Mellark's the lead."

I knew Peeta Mellark. Well, I knew _of_ him. Everyone did. He was this City's Golden Boy. If Cassius Snow was Hades, this guy was Hercules. He was a real Bruno, a little bit Captain America. He loved being the best cop in Capitol City, but he bent a lot of rules to achieve it. Didn't matter though, he was the hero this city craved.

And now he was my way in.

"Peeta Mellark?"

He didn't look up from his notepad, or remove the cigarette from his teeth. "Call me Pete." His voice was monotone, but not threatening. He sounded bored and uninterested. Yet the scene in front of us was anything but that. A dead man, eyes still open, was 15 yards away. One single crimson hole was painted his forehead. Execution style. It was so grim and theatrical, I couldn't look away.

"Name is Plutarch Heavensbee. Former Gunrunner, drug dealer, lowlife extraordinaire from the South Side."

"Former?" I tried showing the wit and intelligence that would make me the best PI in the city. "Is that why he was gunned down? Did he make a bad deal with the wrong guys…and then some sore goon with a vendetta saw an opportunity?"

"No. Former as in, he was once a dealer, and now he's got a slug in his body." He clicked his pen and walked off.

Nice to meet you too, Golden Boy.

I pursed my lips and stared into Heavensbee's open eyes.

Mellark didn't know the guy didn't use his own product. Or that he had two kids under the age of 3.

Most importantly, he didn't know Heavensbee used to be a CI. That was interesting to me.

* * *

I was on my second cup of coffee the next morning. I told the waitress I took it black, but she gave me two sugars by accident. I don't do sweets and I don't do cigarettes. I must be the only former cop in New York who didn't smoke.

I also didn't gamble and didn't go out late looking for broads. All I really wanted to do with my life was to be a cop and even that went wrong.

Pretty boring, huh?

I made some calls after I visited the stiff last night. The first was to my old Captain, possibly the only other guy in the city who knew about Heavensbee.

I didn't stay on the phone with Haymitch long but I got what I needed. Heavensbee was in deep with the Snow Family- apparently an old buddy of Coriolanus Snow's- he owed 'em more money than his life was worth.

It seemed like the whole case was tied up with a pretty bow. Heavensbee owes Snow money. Heavensbee can't pay up and snitches to the fuzz. Heavensbee gets killed by Crane.

Everything seemed to check out just fine.

Except it didn't. Why would Mrs. Snow send me there if it was that easy?

Haymitch tossed me a bone, a cat by the name of Cato Hadley, owner, manager and money launderer at The Grand Mahogany. One of the guys on Snow's Payroll.

Cato Hadley was Heavesbee's boss and was real buddy-buddy with Seneca Crane. His name was also all over Thom's files. Before he was shot, Thom had been trying to nail Hadley down with something, _anything_ to shut down the cash flow to the Snow's empire.

Before I hung up, Haymitch said he had the feeling that something wasn't right.

I did too.

* * *

I arrived at the scene and shortly after was surprised by the arrival of one irate Golden Boy.

"Bringing in Hadley for the murder." Mellark talked like a guy who didn't owe anyone an explanation. I was surprised he was giving me one. "What are you here for?"

"Got questions about a case." I kept it short.

After some colorful words were exchanged, accusations and denials were thrown around. We picked up our guy. I was there first so I got the first crack at him. I couldn't ask much with Mellark hovering. All I got out of Hadley was attitude and sloppy lies.

"Heavensbee was a goddamn disaster. He owed everyone money and we all knew he'd never pay it off. '

'How much'd he owe you?"

Hadley shrugged, "I'd say about two grand."

"How much did he owe the Snows?" I knew it was a reckless question.

"How the fuck would I know?"

"So you killed the dumb bastard over a couple large? Come, on Hadley. You bring in at least that much on the hour."

"I didn't kill him."

That's the last word I got out of him.

An hour later, after Mellark's refined interrogation and finger breaking skills, Hadley gave a full confession. Even offered to write it out for us, broken fingers and all.

I knew it was a phony one. I don't think Mellark knew or cared.

Mellark put the big man behind bars and got commendations from the chief. He shook everyone's hand and even made the front page, **'Another Win for our Boys in Blue'.**

Of course, the newspapers wrote that- Snow had a finger in their pie as well. He must have been thrilled with the way they spun it, it worked out better than he planned. All the heat came down on Cato and no one looked twice at Crane.

The real kicker was what Mellark said to me after. He caught me after the first press-conference, just as I was getting into my beat-up, rust-bucket.

"Hawthorne," He grabbed my shoulder. "You did good, kid."

He called me kid even though he couldn't have been more than 3 years older than me.

"God damn shame what they did to you last year. They way they forced you out." He commiserated. "You deserved better. If I knew you back then, I would have stepped in, taken you under my wing."

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out two cigars, handing one over to me.

"Anytime you need a favor, you call me." He gave me his best golden boy smile. "I mean it, kid. Anytime."

I was tempted to call in the favor right there and tell him to put his money where his mouth was and get me back on the force.

I didn't though. I just watched him walk toward the cameras, smoking a cigar lit for victory.

* * *

But just my luck, it was only a few nights later that real temptation stopped by my office on 35th. A real ripe tomato, with red hair and a body designed by Donatello himself. She stood in the doorway, an odd mixture of timid and determined. I was alone but knew I'd have to stay professional. Boy, she was a looker though.

"What can I do for you, Ma'am?"

"My brother Cato Hadley was fingered for a murder he didn't commit. I know he didn't do it."

"Why come to me? I got no sway over the cops."

"I saw you that night. You came with the other officer- the one they're all talking about. _The hero_." She said it like it was a curse. "The one from the papers."

I recognized her now, Effie Trinket. Headliner at the Grand Mahogany.

"Well, ma'am -"

"- call me Effie."

"Miss Effie…your brother confessed to the murder of Plutarch Heavensbee."

"Did he confess, Mr. Hawthorne? Or did you beat him till he was more scared of you than he was of prison?"

"I didn't touch your brother, Miss Effie."

"You stood there and watched."

I should have taken that as an insult. But I didn't realize how close she'd moved to me.

She was the polar opposite of the last lady who sat in that chair. Madge Snow was cool, restrained and fucking perfect. God himself couldn't make a face as perfect as hers. But Miss Effie Trinket- she was everything the devil intended. She was born to sin. She was messy and hot. Her mascara was smudged as if she'd been crying and wanted me to know about it.

She sprawled across the chair and halfway over my desk to grip my arm. Her blood-red fingernails didn't break skin, but they could have. The deep V of her white dress offered everything to me.

I should have been better. Should have said no.

But hey, I'm a man.

* * *

About two weeks later, I was woken up by the phone. Effie woke up beside me, the place she'd been sleeping for the past several nights. Some mornings, I hated myself a little for falling asleep dreaming of blue eyes and waking to green ones. The worst days were after I woke up with my fist tangled in red hair when I wanted to see blonde.

The caller was the very object of my nightmares and fantasies- Mrs. Snow.

She wanted to meet me at the office. I thought she wanted to say more when she heard Effie's sleepily calling me back to bed.

She hung up without another word.

As I drove to my office, I couldn't stop thinking about her voice. What she'd said the last time I saw her, "You're a coward, Hawthorne. Seneca Crane shot that man, just like he shot that police officer last year."

I was true but I had no way to prove it. And with Mellark's face on the front page with Cato Hadley's confession in bolded quotes, there wasn't a damn thing I could do.

There was something else she said to me that night.

"My husband and his father prefer not to get their hands dirty, Mr. Hawthorne." She never called me Gale. "You see, shaking hands with bloody fists would somewhat ruin the effect they're going for. If I've learned anything from them, it's to always, _always_ , outsource cruelty."

I thought about that for days. I thought about the bruises around her throat, the ones she'd tried to mask with powder and a coil of black netting looped around her neck.

I thought about how much she seemed to hate Seneca Crane and the peculiar statement of 'outsourcing cruelty'.

She was standing by my door. She was wearing black as she has the other times I'd seen her. Even in photographs in the papers, she always wore black.

No virginal white for Mrs. Snow.

She sat across from me with perfect posture. No bruises peeking out through powder today. She looked scared, a little desperate.

"You have to help me, Mr. Hawthorne. I can't- I don't know what to do." She glanced over her shoulder, "I think I'm being followed. Or listened to."

Now I'll admit, she sounded a little unhinged. Like she was coming off a bad trip. Hell, maybe she was. I didn't know the first thing about how rich, bored wives in Capitol City spent their time and money.

If I was meeting her today for the first time, I would have told her to go home, drink some coffee and sober up.

But today wasn't the first time and I couldn't look away from those blue eyes that had haunted me since the moment we met.

"After I telephoned you this morning, I think I heard someone hang up on the extension- I didn't know anyone was home or I never would have done it." Her eyes were wide and panicked. "I think someone heard. I think Seneca knows-"

I came around the desk and gripped her shoulders. "Knows what?" I shook her trying to snap her out os a daze, "Mrs. Snow, wh-"

"Madge. My name is Madge."

"Madge, what does he know?"

She pressed her fingertips to her lips as if to hold in a dirty secret. "I never should have come here." She stood to leave.

I wasn't letting her go that easy. I grabbed her around the waist and pressed her to the door.

"What does he know?"

"About you," she whispered, suddenly seeming much more human. She stroked cold fingers down my cheek, "I never should have gotten you involved- I was just so scared."

She could have snapped her fingers and told me to roll over right then. I was a goner.

"I won't let them hurt you, honey." I pressed my forehead to hers.

She pulled me closer, wrapping her arms around my neck. I could feel her tears soaking into my shirt. "It's too late. I'm afraid Seneca followed me here."

I tried to pull away, maybe talk some sense into her, but she wouldn't let me. She tangled her fingers in my hair and pressed her cherry stained lips to mine. She tasted like salt and smoke.

I'll never forget it as long as I live.

Through her wild kisses, I caught her desperate pleas to 'please, no matter what happens, kill Crane for her sake'.

"He hurt me," She sobbed over and over again, "he hurt me. Please, Gale, don't let him hurt me again."

I can't quite say what happened after, all I remember was a blur of blonde hair and sweet-scented perfume.

After, Madge and I were laying there. Her lush thigh draped over my hip and a cigarette passed back and forth. I had a load of troubles floating 'round my head but couldn't focus on a damn thing because of her fingertips tracing over old scars on my chest.

"Did you ever think something so awful, but could never say it out loud, Madge?"

She took a slow drag and blew the smoke slowly in the air. "Is it about Seneca?"

"In a way, sweetheart. I've been thinking about Thom and Heavensbee- the dead man from a couple weeks back."

"Tell me." She didn't move her head, nor her eyes. But I could feel her tense up.

"I keep going over it in my head. I think someone sold 'em both out. What if someone else knew Heavensbee was working with us. What if it was another cop?"

She pushed up to her elbow and I gently brushed her hair out of her face. One hour with her made me softer than an overripe tomato.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to call in a favor. Talk to a guy who knows how to put bad guys behind bars."

My instinct told me to talk to Haymitch first but I knew he already lost too much by being associated with me. I telephoned Mellark instead, reaching him at the precinct as he was leaving.

I didn't say much on the phone but I did ask him to bring Thom and Heavensbee's files. As an afterthought, I added that he should come 'round the back because I thought someone was watching my office.

After I hung up, I sat on the edge of my desk and watched Madge dress.

I wasn't much of a believer in the grace of Our Heavenly Father, but if any woman could make me drop to my knees and thank The Lord for his blessings- she was it.

The way she rolled her up stockings with one kitten heel perched on my chair; the way she hooked her brassiere and smoothly slid the straps over her shoulders, all while watching me with 'come hither' eyes. By the time she offered her back to me, silently asking me to zip her up, I was head-over-heels for this dame.

* * *

A little while later, Mellark tapped quietly on my door. When I opened it, his eyes immediately darted over my shoulder to Madge. He didn't say anything but I knew he had questions.

I'd answer them all as soon as we got somewhere safe.

He took one step into my office, back pressed to the wall like any half-decent cop, and nodded a greeting to her.

"Officer Mellark, it's an honor to meet you in the flesh." In just a few moments, I watched her transform from Madge into Mrs. Snow.

"The honor is all mine. Your father has been our department's most vocal ally since he became Governor." He turned to me, "I'm packed out in the alleyway and I brought the files. There's two black Cadillacs out on the street."

This wasn't the kind of neighborhood where people with Cadillacs spent their evenings.

We took the stairs down with Mellark at the front and me at the back. If anyone wanted to get to Mrs. Snow, they'd have to get through us first.

Mellark held the rear door open for us when we got to his car. "Get in and get on the floor, I'll tell you when it's safe."

I let Mrs. Snow glide in first, then I followed. That's the last thing I remember before I blacked out.

* * *

I woke up in the woods. At least I think it was the woods. My head hurt something fierce and my ears were ringing like I'd sat front row at a Sinatra show three weeks in a row. The only light was the headlights from Mellark's car. As I sat up and felt the dried blood on the back of my head, I saw him walking towards me with some papers clenched in his fist.

"Mellark?"

"Don't try and stand up, kid." His accent was a little rough, far from the upper class-golden boy I was used to.

"Mellark, what the fuck is going on? Where's Madge?"

"You might as well call me Peeta." He stayed monotone. "Seein' as you won't be saying much ever again."

"If you touched her, I'll fucking kill you" My voice was quivering, but I was looking him in the face and dammit, I didn't want to go out a coward. I didn't want to die knowing I'd led an innocent woman get hurt.

"I'm right here, Gale," Her voice was clear but she was just out of my line of sight.

"Madge, thank god." I gasped in relief. "I'm sorry I got you tied up in this, baby. I'm so sorry."

She stepped into the light and I felt fear sneaking its fingers around my throat. Her beautiful face was blank and her hands were demurely clasped over a pearl handle pistol. If looks could kill, I'd have been laid out in the city morgue, right then.

"You should have left my family alone, Gale."

My head spun and I felt bile crawling up my gullet.

"You should have left the city when Seneca let you live." She raised the pistol and pointed it straight at my chest. "You should have let this go."

"Why?"

"But somehow, I can't-" She lowered the gun. "I still like you, Gale."

Mellark took a couple steps toward me and swatted, holding up two pictures, one of Thom and one of Heavensbee- they had matching bullet holes in their foreheads.

"Notice anything, Gale?" He shook the photograph of Thom, "this was Seneca's work, he belongs to the Snow family. But this," He shook the one of Heavensbee, "this one's mine. And I belong to her." He gestured over his shoulder at Madge.

He stood back up slowly and laughed a little to himself, "the real fucking tragedy is that I like you too, Kid."

Madge handed him the pistol- outsourcing the cruelty, if you will.

She wasn't marble, I thought as the darkness closed in again. No, she was ice. beautiful and brittle. Sharp enough to ruin a life- my life.

* * *

I guess this is where the story ends. At least for me. I got shot once, just like Heavensbee, and died quickly. I'm sure Peeta mourned for his fallen 'brother in blue' for the press. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe they ran a couple paragraphs on page 3 about **'Dirty Cop Gets Done In'** or something of the like.

It was cold. It was dark. And I was a dead man. Just another evening in Capitol City.

* * *

 **Next Prompt** : I'm taking Suggestions!

Also just wanted to gauge interest- would anyone want to read a Dark Gale/Madge story? It would be super dark and smutty. Gale is the new President of Panem and Madge is sold to him by District 2.


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